My Dentist Is Evolving

I have another update on my dentist.  I know, I post a lot about dentists, but I just happen to have a 3-year-old who is obsessed with being a dentist!

This afternoon, I left Mitchell and Jack together, playing unbelievably well together considering their age difference, to clean up the kitchen a bit on my own.  When I finished, I checked up on them and Jack was laying on the couch in Mitchell's room, mouth open, with Mitchell "working" on his 4 teeth.  I could not believe first: that Jack had climbed up there, second: he had not fallen off, third: he was laying still, fourth: he was allowing Mitchell to poke around in his mouth without biting him, and fifth: he was loving it!  When Jack saw me, the game was over, of course, and he wanted me to play with him instead.  

With his first patient all fixed up and moved on to other things, it was my turn to see "the dentist."  This can be a scary thing as I never quite know what to expect, given the assortment of tools he has to choose from.  Well, this time, my dentist was quite thorough and showed he has learned a few more skills and added some new services to his list of jobs he performs.  After a quick flashlight in the mouth, I then got my hair brushed (with a real brush, not a toy saw!), my hair blow-dried with a power drill, and my back scratched (this one was performed with the toy saw, but it was surprisingly effective!).  Then I had to sit with my feet up in the air for "about 12 hours" and I was good to go!   What a full service dentist I have!  So relaxing!  This time at least...

The Dentist Strikes Again!

I think that the "killer" phase is over.  At least, I haven't heard any more about it since a couple weeks ago, when he made the decision that he would like to be a "killer" and kill bad guys (and sometimes Ben) when he grows up.

My little dentist is back.  He no longer just works on teeth and the mouth in general though.  This is a special dentist who can do...well, just about anything really.  It depends on what kind of tool he has recently discovered.  Sometimes, he is sawing off my legs and re-attaching them with water from his water bottle.  Sometimes he needs to draw on my belly to show where he is going to cut me open and fix my stomach.  Sometimes the tools get a bit creative: a few days ago, he made me lay still while he put puzzle pieces down the back of my shirt.  I forget exactly how that was fixing me...

He finds tools for his "dentistry" everywhere he goes, but just yesterday, he finally discovered my drawer in the bathroom full of odd hair styling equipment.  When he found these tools, his eyes got wide and he said, "I didn't know you had dentist tools in here!  I need these!"  He ran to get his goggles (they are one of his constant tools when he's working) and got to work with his new equipment!  What a discovery this was!  To be honest, I rarely use this stuff anyways, so I am glad someone is getting some use out of it!  

The next day, he returned to his treasure drawer, digging deaper to find a small bag of nail polish.  Oh man, what can we use these for?  In the end, he ended up setting them all up in a neat little row, got a cup out of the bathtub, and proceeded to make mixed drinks with them (not opening them, of course, just pretending.)  He'd shake one in the cup, then another, stir it up, and name it something gruesome like "bloody goo" and "sticky tub water."  I had to pretend to drink them, but I didn't pretend to like it!  One of the grossest mini-bar selections I've ever seen!

No Wonder We All Hate Going to the Dentist

A dentist's office is, at best, an intimidating place.  At worst, it it is downright scary.  As I walked into the room for my follow-up appointment yesterday, i saw "the room" through Mitchell's eyes.  I knew that the machines in there were not just for cleaning this time, but for jabbing needles into my gums and drilling holes into my teeth.  No matter now calm and professional and charming your dentist is (and mine is all the above), it is difficult to relax and trust your well-being to a man who is about to use a drill in your mouth.  

As I lay there waiting for the numbness to take, listening to Enya sing lullaby-like songs about sailing away and other half-understandable lyrics, and staring at the hideous ceiling (don't they know their patients only have one place to look?  Make it a nice ceiling!!), I found myself unable to relax.  By the time he was actually drilling my teeth, my body was already a bit fatigued from the constant flexing all over.  As I lay with my mouth gaping, my jaw tiring, holding my breath so I didn't have to smell the smell of tooth powder drifting around, feeling that terrible pressure of a drill inside my tooth, I had to constantly remind myself that it didn't hurt and I needed to relax a bit.  My butt was so clenched that when I consciously relaxed it, I sank into the chair a couple inches!  

I do have to give my new dentist credit for one thing though.  He doesn't try to carry on a conversation with me while my mouth is stuck in a gaping position with all manner of equipment jabbing and scraping and sucking.  I remember my family's dentist as i was growing up as quite the talkative wannabe comedian.  He not only had an assistant with him at all times that he carried on constant conversation 3 inches from my face, but he would actually tell me lame jokes and ask me questions while drilling my teeth - as if I had any ability to answer him in any other form than a nod or grunt!  I ran across this little graph that illustrates my old dentist perfectly.  I may not enjoy visiting my new dentist, but at least he knows well enough to keep his thoughts to himself and not make an uncomfortable situation more uncomfortable by requiring verbal participation from his patients.  

My New Dentist

I admit it - I have not been to the dentist in years, and my kids have never been to the dentist.  I have many excuses for this lapse in hygene including moving as often as I do, no sore teethe, feeling like I do a great job flossing, and my favorite - I just don't like going.  Well, as it is no longer just about my teeth, but about all the little teeth in my family, I finally made dentist appointments.  

Mitchell and I were up first and today was the day.  I will admit, I was nervous.  I have very weak teeth, and I knew it was not likely I would escape the cleaning without a second visit getting scheduled to come back and fix all that has gone wrong in my mouth.  Despite my general unease, I tried to make it sound exciting for Mitchell.  At first, he was excited to be going somewhere with me all by himself, but one look at that little room with all the equipment in it and he decided this was not where he wanted to be.  There is an aweful lot of complicated looking machinery in there, it's true.  

I went first to show him that it would not hurt and to show off what all the "scary machines" were for.  As I had to sit still facing forward with my mouth gaping open and full of all manner of cleaning and scraping and poking instruments, I couldn't really see him exactly, but I could see that the longer I sat there pretending to be having a great time for his sake, he was creeping farther and farther out of the room and into the hallway.  When I could finally turn my head and take a tiny peek at him, I found him huddled on the floor outside the room just barely peeking around the corner into the room to make sure the dentist hadn't finally finished me off.  

When it came time for him to climb up in the chair, he lost it.  He clamped both hands over his mouth and burst into tears.  "Later mommy, later!  I'll do it later!  I'm not ready!  I don't want him to look in my mouth!  I won't open it!"

It took some serious skill on the part of my dentist and myself, as well as plenty of goofing off with all the "tools" in there, trying to make him laugh and see it wasn't such a big deal, but we finally coaxed him to let him count his teeth and then bit by bit, brush them.  We almost had to reschedule, but in the end, we got his little chompers checked and cleaned.  

You'd think that after all the drama and fears and tears, he would want to forget about the dentist and his experience, but it has been the opposite.  He has been talking about it all day and even pretending to be a dentist himself!  I had to sit still for quite some time this afternoon and let him be my dentist.  He got all manner of tools out to work on my teeth.  Now we have no dentist tools.  We don't even have any doctor's tools, so he improvised.  I had quite the assortment of "tools" working on me - drill, measuring tape, blocks, a saw, flashlight, baseball, tinker toys, even part of a bbq.  Some tools were for "fixing," some were for "cleaning."  Others were for sucking the coffee off my teeth and fixing up my tongue and cheeks while he was in there.  He even labeled his shoes "dentist shoes."

It is good to know that while he seemed quite frightened and a bit traumatized by his first dentist visit, he came out of the ordeal with nothing but respect and excitement for the dental profession.