Not that I have anything against dentists…personally. I feel it takes a special sort of something to actually choose a profession that involves looking into and/or tooling around in other people's mouths…on purpose.
In fact, I have personally supported many dental professionals, my ownself — I've had several root canals, as well as gum graphing and reconstructive surgery in my mid-twenties, due to a long lost and previously unforeseen baby tooth exploding in my sinus cavity (you're welcome!) — I've helped hone their dentistry skills AND achieve their long-term financial goals.
In other words dentists, or pretty much anyone involved in any aspect of oral healthcare, absolutely LOVED me!
Then, I had children and, well, nowadays, dentists are also very knowledgeable in creating really cool balloon animals and even allow younger kids to play with Mr. Thirsty (a.k.a. the spit sucker) or have several video game systems set up…in their waiting rooms…you know…for siblings to play with…on purpose.
In other words, my kids LOVED going to the dentist.
Until, they got older and, well, there are many different levels of "It's like a pinch, really" when kids hit double-digits.
Then, they reach teenhood and, well, I swear pulling teeth has GOT to be easier than getting a teenager to smile.
Trust me, having spent a little more than a third of my life waiting in a dentist's and/or doctor's office, I know — especially, with my oldest girls.
Holly and Heather have endured two years of having their teeth pulled, prodded and realigned to look like "drunken railroad tracks" (their words, not mine) and I had my doubts the Orthondontist would EVER be able to…you know…pull it/them off.
BONUS POINTS: for being able to do so…3 days before Holly's senior prom…the Orthodontist happens to be a mother, of teens, as well.
© 2003 – 2012 This Full House
