Monkeys in My Coconut Tree: Stories of Faith, Fun & Family

By Ed Thompson

This book is a compilation of fun, easy-to-read stories of family and faith. With a healthy dose of humor, an engaging outlook on life, and relatable family hijinks, these chapters will make you laugh and perhaps even cry. Many of these stories first appeared as a newspaper article or in a LOGOI Ministry update and have been enhanced for this book. We pray each one will serve as a joyful reminder that “God loves us with unfailing love; the LORD’s faithfulness endures forever. Praise the LORD!” (Psalm 117:2).

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Jan 22, 2016
• ISBN: 9781938420597

Book preview

CONFESSIONS

OF THE TOOTH FAIRY

   CHAPTER ONE    

TOOTH FAIRIES ARE A STRANGE BREED. AT LEAST THAT'S WHAT MY CHILDREN THINK. ONE BABY TOOTH MIGHT GENERATE A GENEROUS $5 UNDER A PILLOW WHILE ANOTHER MIGHT ONLY BE WORTH AN ODD $1.74. IT'S AS IF THE TOOTH FAIRY RUMMAGED THROUGH HIS POCKETS AND GAVE WHATEVER HE FOUND. BUT SOMETIMES, APPARENTLY, A BABY TOOTH WASN'T EVEN WORTH A DIME AND A HEARTBROKEN CHILD WOULD SADLY REPORT THAT THE TOOTH FAIRY DIDN'T SHOW UP AT ALL. FOR SOME REASON, THIS WOULD WARRANT A SCOWL FROM MY WIFE DIRECTED IN MY DIRECTION - AS IF SOMEHOW I WAS RESPONSIBLE FOR THE TOOTH FAIRY'S INCOMPETENCE.

Then there was the time when the tooth fairy completely fell down on the job. I know this for a fact because our son, Matt, had quietly walked into our room as the sun was rising and stood next to me breathing softly in my face until I woke up and calmly jumped onto the ceiling fan. Matt was standing there looking about as pathetic as a little six-year-old boy could possibly look, and sadly let us know the tooth fairy had forgotten all about him. Looking at his terribly forlorn face from the ceiling fan, I planned on tearing up too as soon as my defibrillated heart slowed down enough to allow my other organs to function.

It all began when Matt showed me an ugly bump on his gum above his loose tooth. At first, it looked like he was trying to smuggle a small marble through customs. Dads have been the official family tooth extractors since Adam first yanked out Cain and Abel's baby teeth using dental floss Eve bought at Walgreens. So it was obviously my job to pull Matt's tooth before it got worse.

I had Matt sit down and open wide so I could determine the best method for immediate extraction. The trick to baby teeth removal, as I learned from my father, is to explain to your child that you need to dry the tooth off in order to have a better look. With that said, you pull out a Kleenex, get a firm grip on the little sucker, and yank it out before the unsuspecting child knows what hit him. Either that, or you let him or her eat taffy. With the latter method, you find the tooth... eventually.

After my seventh or eighth try, however, Matt was seriously questioning my tooth-drying ability. It has to be dry by now, Daddy, I think he tried to say as I shoved another Kleenex in his mouth. His eyes kept getting bigger and bigger with each drying attempt. I finally had to acknowledge that drying off this particular tooth would require my lucky long-nosed pliers. I considerately taped the ends with Kleenex secured by nonabrasive electrical tape and was trying to pin Matt down on the floor when my mother inappropriately stopped by for a visit.

What are you doing to my grandson? she exclaimed, as I was trying to pry open his mouth. I'm pulling his slimy tooth, I retorted, a bit irritated at her timing, What does it look like? With amazing agility, Grandma sprang to Matt's side and demanded I use my common sense. I am, I chirped back, why do you think I taped the ends of my lucky long-nose pliers with nonabrasive tape? She clutched Matt close and replied rather shortly, Common sense means for you to call a dentist, she said while also mentioning something about Neanderthals, which didn't make much sense to me. To my surprise, Matt sided with his grandmother and despite my pleas of fatherly duties, we were sitting in the dentist office shortly thereafter.

After a quick examination, the dentist looked at me and said, Yuck. Then he said, It's a good thing you didn't try to pull the tooth yourself. He's got a pretty good abscess and we've got to take care of the infection along with the tooth. Matt was about to say something, but I told him not to interrupt the nice dentist. An abscess, the dentist explained, is a collection of pus surrounded by inflamed tissue. Matt and I looked at each other and said, Yuck. But after the dentist used a specially designed set of long pliers, we were soon back home with a prescription for the infection and a cute little box with a tooth in it ready for the tooth fairy.

So it was about 12 hours later that Matt was standing next to my bed holding his box with the tooth in it wondering what happened to the tooth fairy. I tried to explain how tooth fairies sometimes watch football games late into the night and forget to look under pillows. But this tooth really hurt, Matt said trying to hold back the tears without success. I was about to climb down from the ceiling fan and give him a hug when I noticed my wife's scowl and thought it might be best to continue slowly rotating around the room.

Abscessed or not, however, I happened to like the tooth fairy and we were not about to let the tear stained abscessed filled cheeks of a little six-year-old get the best of us. Are you sure you remembered to put the tooth under your pillow? I asked stalling for time. Matt nodded a pitiful Yes and reached out his hand revealing the little box the dentist had given him with his tooth inside.

Oh, oh, I said, feeling the blood rush back into my brain, did you forget to take your tooth out of that box? I could tell this caught him off guard as he furrowed his brow to think it over. Maybe that explains it, I said, sensing the scowl from my wife intensify. Let's take that ugly ol' tooth out of the box and leave it under your pillow again tonight and see what happens. Matt wiped a tear away from his puffy cheek and nodded in agreement. In the meantime, I continued catching a glimpse of the scowl, why don't I take you out for pancakes so mommy can have a nice quiet morning without all these forgetful people wandering around?

That night, Matt made a point to call my attention to a lone tooth laying unencumbered beneath his pillow. I hope the tooth fairy won't forget tonight, he said looking at me as if I somehow knew the tooth fairy personally. I had a sneaky suspicion he knew a lot more of what was going on than his six short years were letting on. As I tucked him in he looked up at me with those big green eyes and said, Maybe he'll even bring double. Somehow, I felt the spirit of the tooth fairy had been violated.

About 5 a.m., I sensed an eerie presence followed by soft breathing on my neck which once again set off the defibrillator and launched me back onto the ceiling fan. Matt had once again stealthily entered our room and was standing next to my bed, tooth in hand, and the most pitiful face I had ever seen. The tooth fairy must be dead, he said in a low, sad voice, placing the tooth on my pillow. Then, with his head bowed so low he could look in his navel, he turned and walked back to his room.

How could you forget again? my wife said in exasperation. For some reason, college-football-double-header was not a sufficient answer. I felt like an abscess.

I stumbled out of bed and jump-started my brain by stubbing my toe on the bed frame. As I hopped around the room knocking things over, an idea popped into my brain. I found a piece of paper and quickly scribbled a note:

Dear Matt,

Since this tooth gave you so much trouble, I'm leaving it behind to remind you to always brush your teeth.

The Tooth Fairy

The only cash I could find was a $50 bill in a birthday card for my wife from her Grandma. Thanks Grandma, I