I’m sharing the recent experiences of the O’Neill household in the hope that some of you may avoid learning the same lesson I have recently learned about unintended consequences.

This past Christmas, our 10-year-old twins learned the truth about Santa Claus. Being deductive reasoners, they quickly concluded that the Tooth Fairy was also fictional.

At first, this did not seem particularly problematic. Once they confirmed that their teeth still retained the same financial value, the boys were entirely unbothered to learn it was their parents — not a winged nighttime home invader — collecting them.

We did, however, notice one behavioral shift almost immediately: instead of placing lost teeth under their pillows, the boys now simply hand them directly to us. Usually unrinsed. Often bloody. Frequently while extending their opposite hand for immediate financial recompense.

This has put my husband and me in the uncomfortable position of appearing to operate an extremely niche cash-for-teeth business.

Still, we assumed this would only arise occasionally.

Friends, in the last 7 days, the twins have collectively lost 8 teeth.

Unfortunately, because my children are apparently too busy to manage the logistics of their own dental liquidation, they no longer reliably bring the teeth directly to me. As a result, I have spent the last week finding loose human teeth around my house like I’m participating in the world’s worst Easter egg hunt.

Kitchen counter. Bathroom sink. Back seat of my car. At one point, I found one on my nightstand near my pillow, which is not quite “horse head in The Godfather,” but is still not how anyone wants to begin a Tuesday.

We originally viewed telling the boys the truth about the Tooth Fairy as a small coming-of-age milestone. In reality, we have removed a vital intermediary from a delicately balanced tooth-to-cash exchange system, and I cannot adequately express how much I regret it.

If any of you are considering telling your children the truth about their nighttime dental economy, I encourage you to learn from our mistakes. Some systems exist for a reason.