I am not ashamed to say I hate the dentist. Maybe because when I first went to the dentist in my toddler days I had 24 cavities, my mother reminded me. I thought I only had seven, but my mother said, "No that's all they filled" because I was screaming the whole time. (Shudder)
Needless to say, I was a bit apprehensive about going this week with Brady. My mother was away so I was going solo and not looking forward to it. When it came for Brady's turn, the dentist reminded me they would put Brady in a sleeping bag-type holder to prevent him from moving around. I had already stated that I didn't want to be in there with him because while I knew he would be fine, I didn't think I would be.
I followed the dentist down the hall and into the room wear six other mask-wearing people waited. They held their arms up with the gloves on intact, looking at me expectantly with the specimen-child. I held Brady and started to feel a bit panicky. "Um, I'm just going to lay him down and go" I told the doctor. She said, "That's what I want you to do." I did not want to see them strap him in the magical stay-still bed. I grabbed the carriage and hightailed it out.
I had to go outside to use my cellphone, where I left a message for my mother and then called Tom. After speaking to him for about 20 minutes I went back inside and the doctor was in the hall with Brady looking for me. My worries, apprehension, nervousness and guilt were for naught - apparently he fell asleep after they put him in the bed with music playing and they did their work. (Ahh!) Must I make such a big deal over EVERYTHING?!?!?
And on top of that, his front tooth held the largest cavity, which was the tooth that came in split and last Christmas eventually broke the tip off. They fashioned the filling as his tooth, and you can see from the first picture his top right tooth looks fabulous. (How'd you like to put your finger near those chompers??)