The Dentist

So, as you may have read a new dentist, in a new town…  Both with a potential to cause issue with No. 1 son.  We rocked up a good ten minutes early, which for anybody that knows me is a cause for celebration, popping of champagne corks and gasps of amazement!

Then proceeded ten minutes of form filling and questions on how happy I was with my smile… Well when I’m smiling I’m happy… does that count?

Children relatively well behaved – only a glance at the box of toothpaste samples, in the child attracting mini-tubes.  Even I would have been tempted to fill my pockets – but no we all resisted.

Once again this was a “Going it alone” trip as the Daddy was working and he’s actually a child when it comes to the dentist – so it’s always best that he goes by himself or with his own Mother.

We entered the dentist’s room, full of the stuff of nightmares – I always think it’s a bit like the scene from an alien movie when you wake up and realise you’ve been abducted… Don’t worry I don’t share this nightmarish vision with my own children!

Still No. 1 son amazed me – (he does this often, and I have to remind myself during the dark moments of these amazing moments) – No.1 son had declared that he was going first! Up he hopped onto the Dentist’s chair – there was a moment where I thought he was going to do a runner, when he leapt out and declared “I’ve changed my mind”.  But with some gentle persuasion from the dentist, he sat back down.

I have to say the Dentist was amazing – patient and kind, I had explained – as I do.  But nothing seemed to phase her – even when No.1 son asked what country was she from (she had a beautiful Spanish accent).  My worries about his teeth were soothed and his big teeth are coming , they’re just a bit delayed (one less thing I have to worry about).

No. 2 son also sat down like a little dream and then it was me…  First there were the x-rays and the boys stood outside and watched in awe – lots of questions – all good  – we had this nailed…

Then there was my descale and polish that awful winey, screeching sound. Nope No.1 son was having none of it. Hands over ears a childish “la,la,la,la I’m not listening” and he was out the door.  No. 2 son (he’s only five) is soon on his tail with a “Don’t worry Mum I’ll get him”.  My mouth still full of equipment and my face covered in those attractive dark safety glasses reserved for American octogenarians, welders and apparently dentist patients; the dentist asked me “Is he OK?”, I managed a thumbs up.. thinking just get this over with, so I don’t have to come back and so I can stop holding my breath and praying that No. 1 son hasn’t actually done a full runner.. down to the sea..

She opened the door and No. 2 son appeared “It’s OK Mummy he’s on the stairs”. Another thumbs up from me and soon the job was done.  No.1 son appeared “Mum did it hurt”.. I’m always honest with him but sometimes you have to filter.  So I simply answered “A little, but I’m OK”.

Downstairs the bill paid and a relieved Mummy is out the door, the three of us with healthy teeth.  Off to the giant ice-cream shop for our reward… and that’s a tale for another time!


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