The Baby's First Trip To The Dentist

Don't even think about touching me with that buzzing thing

I have a strong stomach. Nothing phases me. Gore. Barf. Poop. Purulent drainage. Swamp ooze. You get the picture.

But teeth. As stated in blogs posts past teeth have always made me queasy. When The Genius and The Artist were little and had wobbly baby teeth that were on their way out I always took them to my Alabama friend's hubby and he pulled them while I hid. About the only thing I could handle was plunking the quarter under the pillow for the Tooth Fairy after the deed was done.

Two things happened:

1.) On my second trip to Haiti I met the dentist who informed me in no uncertain terms if I was coming back to Haiti then I needed to learn how to pull teeth or I didn't need to come back to Haiti. Oh, he was a tough one. Somewhere in a magazine is a photo of me as a younger nurse holding up someones 12 year molar with the victim patient gazing lovingly at me for putting him out of his misery. Dental care is a blessing in Haiti. And if your pseudo-dentist blacks out face down in the sand after pulling your 12 year molar, "no problem."

2.) I adopted special needs children.

I came to the decision early on that oral defensiveness, aspiration, rumination, regurgitation, biting, fighting, crying, clenching, sneezing, seizing or wheezing would not deter me from brushing and flossing these children's teeth from the moment they erupted a minimum of twice a day. I think I mentioned before that an anesthesiologist who was marveling over the teenagers teeth asked how in he world I was ever able to take such good care of her teeth considering her disability and severe oral defensiveness? I informed him, "It's called a head-lock." Too gruff? Too bad. I mean look at these choppers...

Today, since The Baby turned three recently we traipsed off the the Big City Dentist who also treats The Boy. They graciously accepted his baby sibling.

YOU did this to me!

The Baby hated everything about the visit and fought manically. Here she is above blaming me for traumatizing her for life.

When the Big City Dentist examined The Baby's teeth after her cleaning and x-rays he had one word...

"Beautiful!"

She graciously accepted her new toothbrush. I was surprised that it did not go sailing across the room.

The Boy was cooperative as always and also had no cavities. He will be admitted the week after Christmas to the Big City hospital again for more extractions, though. Four adult teeth must go to make room. While he is under the dentist said, "I'm just going to pull those baby teeth as well." He had my blessing on the spot. After all, the baby teeth simply do not come out on their own. A common issue with many children who have Osteogenesis Imperfecta. The Baby who has the Lauren Hutton gap to die for has the exact opposite issue.

The Big City dentist summed the two totally opposite mouths up nicely when he stated, "It's too bad we couldn't do a space transplant from The Baby to The Boy." Too bad, indeed.

After The Baby barfed the fluoride up in my hand we went to Denny's for a Grand Slam celebration and then...of course...thrifting... where we saw this horror:

I mean, seriously. I almost bought this poor little rooster just to rescue him from these wilty, discolored, alien lemons.

And then there was this charming reminder:

Yeah. So how is that working for you? Cause I'm pretty sure it's not working for me.