THE tooth fairy has always come to our house. She knows the way by heart.

Every time a tooth has been left under a pillow, it's been replaced by a 50p piece, along with a little note from the tooth fairy herself.

Our baby girl, now aged 12, had a particular fascination with the tooth fairy when she was little. Invariably, she'd write her letters, asking all kinds of questions like: 'Where do you live?', 'What do you do with the teeth?', 'Do you have a boyfriend?', and 'What do you wear?'

Last thing at night, the tooth fairy, rubbing sleep from her eyes, would find herself replying in tiny script to keep the magic alive. The fairy letters have all been duly kept in a bedroom drawer, including the one which says she wears a rainbow-coloured dress, and a fluffy cardigan when it's cold.

But suddenly, there has been a rite of passage which is yet another example of life turning full circle and another reminder that the original tooth fairies (me and Mum) are getting a bit past it. Our baby girl has taken over as the tooth fairy...

Her little brother Max, aged six, had lost his first tooth during a PE lesson. He was beside himself with excitement, desperate for a visit from Tinkerbell, although he was a bit worried that his smile wouldn't be quite as nice.

Sadly, Max suffers from being the youngest - the last of four. The (long in the) tooth fairies, after a hard day, had forgotten to leave 50p and write a letter. Shamefully, they were busy watching Sex And The City with their feet up, sipping glasses of wine.

Big sister to the rescue. Realising that a crisis needed to be averted, she jumped out of bed, poked her head round the lounge door and gushed: "What about the letter from the tooth fairy?" No need to worry - within seconds, she'd dug out a pen and paper and was already taking on the mantle of Tinkerbell.

"Dear Max," she wrote, "thank you for your tooth. Don't worry - you still look lovely when you smile. I am waiting for the next one. I hope it comes out soon. Lots of love, Tinkerbell." We just sat there watching, while she happily took on the responsibility of keeping the magic alive.

Tinkerbell didn't have long to wait for the next one. Max's second tooth dropped out a week later after wobbling for ages. This time, it happened while he was eating his packed lunch at school."I thought I was chewing a nut but I don't like nuts and then I realised it was my tooth," he explained later.

Like a shot, he was running across the school field with the tooth between his forefinger and thumb to show his favourite dinner auntie. Somewhere on the way, disaster struck - the tooth fell from his grasp and was lost in the grass.

Naturally, there were tears but after counselling sessions at home with the new tooth fairy and the old one, he's decided that it's going to be OK.

"When teeth fall on the ground, tooth trees grow and the fairies come and take the teeth off the branches," he told me when I arrived home from work. And on that basis, he still got his 50p.

THE QUESTIONS THEY ASK

BARBARA Nash, speaker-finder at North Billingham Ladies Friendly Circle, recalled how son David, aged only four at the time, came up with an unexpected question: "Mum, what's a penis?"

Barbara wondered where he'd heard such talk and did her best to explain that it was just another word for a "tail" as it was known in the house.

"What? On Play School?" asked David, looking surprised.

You may recall that Play School always ended with the words: "And the pianist today was..."

MARIAN Walker, also of North Billingham Ladies Friendly Circle, told how her grandson Timothy had gone to South Cleveland Hospital, in Middlesbrough, for an assessment a week before an ear operation.

Timothy couldn't help noticing a poster on the board telling mums that a private room could be provided if they wished to breast feed.

"What does breast feeding mean?" the little boy asked his mum, who again did her best to explain.

Timothy sat quietly for a few minutes before saying: "Does it mean it all comes mashed up?"

THE THINGS THEY SAY

GENEVIEVE, who lives in Croft, near Darlington, was saying goodnight to her Daddy on the telephone.

"So what have you done at school today, little Vieve?" he asked.

"We have written letters to the rubbery people," she said.

"Who are the rubbery people?" inquired her baffled Daddy.

"The rubbery people, the rubbery people - Jonny Wilkinson and the rubbery people who are going to Australia and we want them to do well," came the reply.