It was obvious Cole had never visited the dentist, exhibited by his cadre of fervent exclamations like, “I’m going too the dentist!” He clearly hadn’t yet experienced the odor of his own tooth polarizing to dust under the distinctive whine of a drill, or the pain of a four-inch needle penetrating to the back of his jaw. No, the dentist was just another milestone too boyhood.
The dentist explained that you want their first visit to be a good experience so there was going to be no need to hold him down, to our relief. To ease any anxiety they turned on cartoons and he sat on Nicole’s lap in the chair with one of those ubiquitous dentist bibs and a pair of Mickey Mouse sunglasses for the bright light. Either due to my affectionate manner or rapist wit (Dumb & Dumber reference), as soon as they were recumbent in the chair Cole whimpered out, “Daddy?” So now I sat in the chair with Cole until the electric polisher brush came close to his mouth and he sprang for the next name on his list, “Grandma Julie?” With a slightly crushed ego we persevered on with the electric brush with no avail; even after some cute words of encouragement from the dentist’s three-year-old son. Instead of planting a deep seed of fear we skipped the brush and went to opening his mouth like a crocodile to check for “sugar bugs,” i.e. cavities, with the mirror and probe. Too our joy, this elicited no further qualms and we wrapped up a visit with a clean checkup.
Spoils of floss, new toothbrushes and balloons were heaped forth for a superb job. He was additionally rewarded with a visit to the “treasure box,” which culminated in him choosing a florescent yellow unsharpened pencil, over animal figurines, eye patches and Dracula teeth to name a few. Now if we can keep slaying these “sugar bugs” we’ll keep these dentist visits platonic.-Jamin
