Wherein I Eat Crow and It Is Delicious

Remember how I went on and on about the evils of dental hygienists the other day?

Well.  I went to the dentist this morning and not only survived, but LOVED my hygienist.  Really, everyone in this new dentist's office of mine was kind and wonderful and wielded their pokey metal mouth-weapons with gentleness and patience.  Best of all, when I go back in a couple weeks (because of course I have to go back), I will be doing so medicated, because the dentist and hygienist together decided I am just the kind of person who needs a little pharmaceutical assistance when there are drills being used inside my person.  Like I said, wonderful people.

They're also being very conscientious about only doing as much work as our insurance will cover, and let me say it is positively delightful to have someone tooling around in my mouth who is not most likely also mentally outfitting his new boat that all this work is paying for.

Let's see, the dentist was great, the hygienist was perfect... who else?  OH, YES.  There was the lady at the front desk, whom I spoke to twice on the phone before ever arriving and to whom I said things like, "My date of birth?  Ummm,  I don't- I'm sorry, I just get REALLY ANXIOUS when I talk to you!"  Thankfully she couldn't see my free hand flapping manically as I paced around the house.  Somehow she divined that I might be just the teensiest bit nervous about visiting the dentist, because as soon as I walked in she told me, "Now, I made sure not to schedule anyone immediately after you, so you have plenty of time, and if it all just gets to be too much, you let them know and they'll stop to give you a little break."  Finally, someone who understands me!  (Although I would have died before actually asking them for a break; my fear of ever putting anyone out is way too strong for that nonsense.)

Scariest jack-o-lantern I've ever seen

They ENJOY Going to the Dentist?

Normally when our kids experience something that is similar to an event from my own childhood except light-years better- like healthy school lunch options or an air-conditioned school bus- I am cranky and cantankerous and go out of my way to remind them of how lucky they are, and if they dare to make even slightest peep of complaint they pay for it by having to listen to hours of bitter "When I was your age"s from me, e.g., "WHEN I WAS YOUR AGE it was so hot on the bus my face flesh almost melted clean off my skull!"  I swear the local nursing home already has a Scary Old Lady chair roped off for me.  I'm like Mrs. DuBose in To Kill a Mockingbird, except, you know, not addicted to morphine.

There is an exception, however, and that is the remarkable, heavenly wonder that is pediatric dentistry.

It's like Wonderland in there, except, you know, not inspired by prodigious opium use.  (Gracious, this post has way more drugs in it than I was anticipating!)  There are bright colors everywhere that somehow manage not be overwhelming or jarring.  There's a basket of toys in every room.  It has a drop ceiling with the standard tiles of fluorescent lights, but every third one or so has a transparent sky-image of clouds and planes and such lit from behind.  They have small flat screen televisions mounted to the ceiling above every Chair of Terror (sorry, just my personal term for any chair that might have a dentist in its vicinity), and the kids get to watch movies while having their teeth cleaned and inspected.

Best of all, though, are the hygienists.  Now, the hygienists I grew up with likely have Scary Old Lady chairs of their own waiting for them; the majority of them were what I will euphemistically call Not The Friendliest (and by "Not The Friendliest" I mean they could have received tips on bedside manner from Dr. Mengele and come away as improved medical professionals).

The hygienists our children see every six months are the absolute best.  Yesterday was Caedmon's first trip to the dentist (something he's been anxious to do after years of watching his siblings do fun dentist things), and, although it didn't hurt that the young lady was quite pretty, it was more how kind and patient she was with him.  "Do you see this big thing?  This is my special tooth camera, and I'm going to use it to take awesome pictures of your teeth!  See this thing, here?  See how it bends and feels all rubbery- go on, you can touch it!  That's what we're going to put in your mouth to help take the picture!  And I bet that because you are so big and so helpful we'll do a great job at taking tooth pictures, and then you get to see it right on this computer!"

And so on with her Tickle Toothbrush and all the other cutesy names I can 't remember right now.

This is the first time Adelaide hasn't walked out of the office proclaiming, "I LOVE going to the dentist!", but that's because she got sealant put on her teeth (sealant:  Another fancy thing they didn't have when I was a kid, that apparently puts a layer of magic stuff on your teeth so you don't get cavities- or I don't know, maybe it did exist; my hometown didn't even have fluoride in the water, because there were just enough crazy ignoramuses to ruin it for the rest of us).  Atticus isn't crazy about visiting the dentist, but he never really protests, just watches his movie and takes all the mouth-violating with a certain amount of stoicism.

I was tempted to ask the amazing staff if they took 32-year-olds, but I have an appointment of my own at a new dentist next week.  Perhaps I'll finally find a dental hygienist of my own who isn't channeling the likes of Caroline Bingley and Regina George.

No cavities so far in these teeth, nor in his sister's or brother's.  CAN I GET A "HALLELUJAH"?