Skrip - tyur' - i - ent: adj. Possessing the violent desire to write.


#263 In which our hero takes his oldest to visit an old familiar chair.

In about 20 minutes I’m going to go pick up Lily and head to the dentist. Last week both girls had their six month check-up; which is actually only the second time they’ve ever been to the dentist. Our pediatrician recommended that we start taking Lily to the dentist around age three… but we never did. Not that we were avoiding it, we just never got around to it. And we’re religious about brushing their teeth twice a day, so we weren’t too worried about it. Plus, The Scientist has never had a cavity in her life, so I’m hoping that this uber-enamel has been passed down to our kids.

I had horrible teeth as a kid. Well, that is to say, I had a mouth full of cavities, completely due to my piss-poor brushing habits. I would wet my toothbrush and basically swipe it across my teeth once, and call it done. Dad would even joke about it, calling me “the fastest tooth-brusher in the west.” Dad had complete dentures by the time he was 35, so clearly outstanding oral health wasn’t his top priority.

But I really want to spare my kids the pain of cavities--the pain I'd experienced so often as a kid--so we’ve tried to instill the importance of brushing their teeth. The five fillings in my molars are a great visual aid. And, of course, good oral health also includes going to the dentist, so we finally got off our asses and had our kids teeth looked at a year ago.

They were really good about it… no fussy or freaking out. In fact, they seemed very interested in the process. Which is fantastic… no need to develop a fear of the dentist now.

And there were no cavities! Each kid got to enter their name into the “no cavity club contest” where they could win something or other.

I was so proud.

Flash-forward six months to the check-up last week. Macey was fine, no cavities. But Lily… Lily had a cavity! Right in her farthest back molar! Dammit! That’s the hardest tooth to reach!

And, unfortunately, this isn’t a baby tooth that’s soon to fall out; she’s going to hold on to this one until she’s about 11. So you know what that means. A FILLING.

So that’s where we’re going in this afternoon. I’m really hoping it’s not a horrible experience. I mean, I can’t imagine it’s fun for anyone to get a filling (well, expect this guy) but I’m just hoping there’s not a lot of screaming and crying. The Scientist made it clear early on that there was no way she could witness her child under the drill, and that I’d have to step up.

Here’s hoping for the best.


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