My little lady went to the dentist for the first time this week. I was slightly nervous about the visit for a couple of reasons. First, Michael brushes her teeth every night. I’m not saying he does a crappy job, but I’m not certain that the ADA would consider 17 seconds of teeth-brushing sufficient. (Maybe I am saying he does a crappy job.)
You probably won’t believe this but I can be somewhat controlling and obsessive sometimes. Shocking, I know, but it’s true. Teeth-brushing is one of those obsessive areas for me. It’s better that Michael takes on Eva’s teeth because otherwise I would be brushing her teeth every night until the sun came up the next morning. Because I’m not allowed to micromanage the teeth-brushing routine, I was worried her mouth was going to be riddled with cavities.
Secondly, Eva has been saying that she’s scared of everything lately.
“I’m too scared to get out of the car.”
“Your baby is scared of the shower.”
“Aika is scary.”
“Eating vegetables is spooky.”
I was nervous she was going to use her scared routine at the dentist. When I told her she could ride up and down in the chair she said, “I’m too scared to go in the chair. It’s too high.” And then she immediately asked if we could go on a roller-coaster at Disneyland.
Thankfully, she did great and she has no cavities. (Exceptional job, Michael. You’re not fired.) I was having my appointment at the same time so she couldn’t see me but I could hear her. She chatted excitedly and gave no resistance. She was elated with her goody bag at the end of the visit. It was a mighty success.
The hygienist said that Eva told her during their conversation that I’m 60-years-old.
Well, that’s good news for me. I can buy adult diapers with impunity now.
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