The boys went to a new pediatric dentist last week. Jonah loves the dentist (and by "love," I mean gets crazy-hyper like a little poodle when we walk through the door), Sam, not so much. Sam has been to the dentist twice before, and each time he was asked to hop up on the chair, he would suddenly become possessed by some devil and it would take two to three adults to restrain him long enough to "kind of" get his teeth counted. No instruments were allowed. I always thought my insurance company was getting ripped off after those failed appointments.
Since we moved, I decided to find somewhere a little bit closer (even though the old office is only 5 miles away...I prefer less than 2. Have you SEEN the gas prices these days???), and boy am I glad I did. I swear the gals in this new office are "boy whisperers". Not only did they do a thorough cleaning and fluoride treatment without any tears, they got a full set of x-rays to boot. Cue the Hallelujah chorus and descending cherubs! I was relieved, because I swear the last guy (who spent way too much time with the self-tanner and teeth bleaching trays...and that unnerved me) had an asterisk on our chart that said, "DIFFICULT PATIENTS - PROCEED WITH CAUTION." Our new dentist ("Jeff" -- no self-tanner whatsoever) probably noted that my boys were very-well behaved, and that their mother has beautiful teeth. (Because I do. And I showed him.) And aside from that, he most likely threw a couple $$$'s in there for reference because Jonah will require a trip to the orthodontist in the next year for a braces consult which means a happier Christmas for all practitioners involved, and a much more meager Christmas for us.
Each boy was given a coin to use in the toy machine on the way out (like a gumball machine, filled with stuff that will either jam my washing machine or will be found months from now, half-melted under their car seats). Sam was smart and had scoped out the goods prior to his appointment. It was an easy decision -- the faux moustache -- very debonair. When the appointment was over and we went out to redeem his coin, the guy who has the job of replenishing the dental toy machines had been there and was packing up to leave. The moustaches were gone. All the pent up fear and anxiety that Sam had been holding back that morning was suddenly unleashed like a tsunami. Since crying at that decibel level can not be ignored, the toy guy ran up and asked what it was that Sam had wanted. He then proceeded to give Sam not one, but FOUR moustaches. All he had left in his box. Jack pot.
And now we are the Creepy Moustache Family. Who knew facial hair could be so much fun?
Since we moved, I decided to find somewhere a little bit closer (even though the old office is only 5 miles away...I prefer less than 2. Have you SEEN the gas prices these days???), and boy am I glad I did. I swear the gals in this new office are "boy whisperers". Not only did they do a thorough cleaning and fluoride treatment without any tears, they got a full set of x-rays to boot. Cue the Hallelujah chorus and descending cherubs! I was relieved, because I swear the last guy (who spent way too much time with the self-tanner and teeth bleaching trays...and that unnerved me) had an asterisk on our chart that said, "DIFFICULT PATIENTS - PROCEED WITH CAUTION." Our new dentist ("Jeff" -- no self-tanner whatsoever) probably noted that my boys were very-well behaved, and that their mother has beautiful teeth. (Because I do. And I showed him.) And aside from that, he most likely threw a couple $$$'s in there for reference because Jonah will require a trip to the orthodontist in the next year for a braces consult which means a happier Christmas for all practitioners involved, and a much more meager Christmas for us.
Each boy was given a coin to use in the toy machine on the way out (like a gumball machine, filled with stuff that will either jam my washing machine or will be found months from now, half-melted under their car seats). Sam was smart and had scoped out the goods prior to his appointment. It was an easy decision -- the faux moustache -- very debonair. When the appointment was over and we went out to redeem his coin, the guy who has the job of replenishing the dental toy machines had been there and was packing up to leave. The moustaches were gone. All the pent up fear and anxiety that Sam had been holding back that morning was suddenly unleashed like a tsunami. Since crying at that decibel level can not be ignored, the toy guy ran up and asked what it was that Sam had wanted. He then proceeded to give Sam not one, but FOUR moustaches. All he had left in his box. Jack pot.
And now we are the Creepy Moustache Family. Who knew facial hair could be so much fun?
