March 08, 2006

Yeah? Well My Grandpa Can Beat You Up!

We had a dentist's appointment this morning--the first real one The Boy has ever had, because I am not counting the hissy fits he threw at my dental appointments when the hygenist tried to get him in the chair to count his teeth.

It was post-hissy when I figured that pediatric dentistry would probably be the way to go, and it took me 6 months to get an appointment. Note to undecided youth: be a pediatric dentist. You will make POTS OF CASH. POTS!

So off to Dentist Lazlo (his real first name, which just tickles me b/c of the Cartoon Network series Camp Lazlo) we went this morning, and I am proud to report that The Boy aced that whole dentist visit thing.

X-Rays with mom out of the room? No problem!
Flossing? No problem!
Cleaning? Spitting into the vacuum? No problem!
Flouride treatment? A little bit of a problem, due mainly to The Boy's finicky nature and dislike of citrus flavoring. But he persevered--drooled a lot, but persevered.

So now he has two new matchbox cars, a new toothbrush, sugar free toothpaste and a dinosaur shaped toothbrush cover, and I have a bill for $150 and an upcoming visit in which he will have a pre-cavity treated with some nifty water shooting laser deal and will have his molars sealed (he inherited my teeth, the surfaces of which are very like the moon's in terms of nooks, crannies, and craters), all for the low, low price of $300 or so.

Naturally, The Boy had to call Poppa on the phone to tell him of the ordeal, and I overheard this part of the conversation:

"Yeah, I went to the dentist and I did very well. Well, I knew if they did anything bad I would just call you on the phone and you would come beat them up!"

I'm not entirely sure what my dad has been telling The Boy, but dentists everywhere should be put on notice: you hurt my kid, you will suffer the wrath of a balding 66-year-old man! So there!

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to make an appointment to get a crown put on MY back molar. And I doubt my dad will come beat up my dentist if it's too painful. I know I won't come away from the experience with a new matchbox car, either. Some days it sucks to be a grownup.

Posted by Big Arm Woman at March 8, 2006 01:41 PM

My dentist (appointment tomorrow!) is a lefty, and asks pointed and outraged questions about Bush for the entire hour. It's like Air America without the humor.

On the other hand he has no staff (no staff hassle), and does not provide counseling sessions about dental hygiene, which the other guy in town (thanks anyway, I'll try the other guy) requires.

Posted by: Ron Hardin at March 8, 2006 03:40 PM

I went for several years without going to the dentist (yes, I'm that stupid) and paid for it with two years of near-monthly dentists visits that included four cavities, three crowns, one root canal and four deep cleaning sessions that would have made Amnesty International wet their pants.

No matchbox cars for me, either.

As an aside, my dentist is a Lebanese Christian, and I started going to him shortly after 9/11. I've never seen so many American flags in a dentist's office in my life. Poor thing, I guess he felt he had to reassure everyone he wasn't a terrorist.

Posted by: Paula Graves at March 9, 2006 01:59 PM

I bet they'll give you a toy if you ask for one.

Posted by: Sigivald at March 9, 2006 03:04 PM