My View From the cheap seats

Prices are going up on everything, and if you needed one final sign that inflation has officially lost its mind, consider this:

Even the Tooth Fairy has raised her rates.

According to the 2026 Original Tooth Fairy Poll (yes, it’s real), losing a tooth now pays almost six dollars. Six dollars. That is nearly a dollar more than last year, which means the Tooth Fairy is apparently adjusting for inflation faster than the rest of us.

It gets worse.

A first tooth now averages $7.17, which makes sense, I suppose. First teeth are emotional. They’re sentimental. They’re the gateway tooth. But still, $7.17? That’s not tooth money. That’s lunch money.

Nearly one out of every three kids is also waking up to something other than cash — actual gifts. Toys. Trinkets. Probably electronics by the time this column runs. At this rate, the Tooth Fairy is going to need a rewards program and a point-of-sale system.

Since the poll began in 1998, the average Tooth Fairy payout has increased 349 percent. Three hundred forty-nine percent. I don’t know what the Tooth Fairy invests in, but clearly it’s not a savings account.

Now, I don’t ever want to become one of those people who likes to say, “Well, back in my day…” Those people are usually sitting in lawn chairs giving unsolicited advice and wearing socks that should have been retired during the Carter administration.

But today, I’m going to.

When I was a kid, the Tooth Fairy gave me 75 cents. Three quarters. Not “up to” 75 cents. Exactly 75 cents. The Tooth Fairy apparently worked off a strict, no-nonsense wage scale.

And with that 75 cents, I could walk into Warrick’s Otasco store and buy a brand-new Matchbox car.

Not a knockoff. Not a “collector’s item.” A real, honest-to-goodness Matchbox car, complete with tiny wheels and dreams of greatness.

Today, six dollars might not get you a Matchbox car, especially if you want one with moving parts.

What concerns me most is not the money. It’s the expectations.

Kids today lose a tooth and expect a financial package. A first-tooth bonus. A diversification of assets. Some of them are probably waking up disappointed because they only got cash and not a limited-edition plush something-or-other.

Meanwhile, parents are sneaking into bedrooms at midnight doing math. “Okay, what did we do last time? Was it five? Was it six? We can’t go backward. You can’t deflate the Tooth Fairy economy.”

This is how bubbles form.

I fear we are headed for a full-blown dental recession. One morning a kid is going to wake up, look under the pillow, and find a politely worded note explaining market conditions.

Still, I suppose the Tooth Fairy is just keeping up with the times. Milk costs more. Gas costs more. Everything costs more. If you’re going to lose a piece of your own skull, you might as well get compensated fairly.

But I do miss the days when a tooth bought a toy, not a financial discussion.

Seventy-five cents. Three quarters. One less tooth. One Matchbox car.

There was no negotiation. No survey. No trending average. The Tooth Fairy showed up, did the job, and left quietly, like a professional. You didn’t compare notes at school. You just rolled your new car across the sidewalk and felt rich for an entire afternoon. And somehow, that felt like a pretty good deal.