The Monster Dentist
This was it. Pixie's first trip to the dentist. After a steady diet of "potty candy" all summer, I sat up and took attention when Pixie complained of a sore tooth on Monday and called the doctor. Somehow Pixie knew that she should be afraid. "Don't worry, sweetie! The dentist is fun!" I said.
"Really? What do they do?" she asked.
"Well, they look in your mouth, and clean your teeth - and it's fun." Who are we kidding? This was going to be a nightmare.
I lived in fear of the dentist as a child. Our family went to an aging dentist because my parents liked him, not because he was skilled with dental tools. His hands shook with his years, and my gums were slashed and bloody after every visit. I remember after we moved to a different state and I went to a dentist who didn't once hurt my mouth - to me, it was like going to a spa. I've never feared any dentist since that first, mouth slasher. How would Pixie's first dentist be?
We arrived for her appointment and the hygienist held the door open for her to come back to a special exam room set up for kids. There were toys and books in the corner. Pixie went for the rubber Godzilla toy and closed her mouth as tight as possible.
Forty five minutes later we had yet to see a single one of her teeth. The dental hygenist, trying to get her to cooperate had performed almost every dental procedure on Godzilla. X-rays, flossing, polishing, rides on the electric dental chair and even awarded him his every own tooth brush. Pixie's lips remained sealed.
Thankfully, the Mommy Muse whispered in my ear. "Pixie, let's have a yelling contest," I said. "Let's see who can yell the loudest and the longest." Two seconds later we were both yelling our heads off, and Pixie's mouth wide open for the world to see. The dentist quietly peeked inside to make sure everything was okay. The other patients in the office were probably freaked out to hear the lung-busting yells coming from our exam room but hey, at least the kid's teeth got inspected. Her dentist gave me the thumbs up, and said to come back in six months.
I was ready for a bitter departure, anticipating the $65 bill, but the staff had the good sense not to charge me for the visit. Good thing too, because I'm pretty sure my insurance doesn't cover x-rays and a cleaning for pillaging Japanese monsters.
"Really? What do they do?" she asked.
"Well, they look in your mouth, and clean your teeth - and it's fun." Who are we kidding? This was going to be a nightmare.
I lived in fear of the dentist as a child. Our family went to an aging dentist because my parents liked him, not because he was skilled with dental tools. His hands shook with his years, and my gums were slashed and bloody after every visit. I remember after we moved to a different state and I went to a dentist who didn't once hurt my mouth - to me, it was like going to a spa. I've never feared any dentist since that first, mouth slasher. How would Pixie's first dentist be?
We arrived for her appointment and the hygienist held the door open for her to come back to a special exam room set up for kids. There were toys and books in the corner. Pixie went for the rubber Godzilla toy and closed her mouth as tight as possible.
Forty five minutes later we had yet to see a single one of her teeth. The dental hygenist, trying to get her to cooperate had performed almost every dental procedure on Godzilla. X-rays, flossing, polishing, rides on the electric dental chair and even awarded him his every own tooth brush. Pixie's lips remained sealed.
Thankfully, the Mommy Muse whispered in my ear. "Pixie, let's have a yelling contest," I said. "Let's see who can yell the loudest and the longest." Two seconds later we were both yelling our heads off, and Pixie's mouth wide open for the world to see. The dentist quietly peeked inside to make sure everything was okay. The other patients in the office were probably freaked out to hear the lung-busting yells coming from our exam room but hey, at least the kid's teeth got inspected. Her dentist gave me the thumbs up, and said to come back in six months.
I was ready for a bitter departure, anticipating the $65 bill, but the staff had the good sense not to charge me for the visit. Good thing too, because I'm pretty sure my insurance doesn't cover x-rays and a cleaning for pillaging Japanese monsters.
Comments
Your yelling contest was a great idea!