The dentist office is my very least favorite place to go. Just walking in and smelling the place nauseates me. I have too many bad memories from childhood cleanings and braces. Even my more recent adult experiences have been effused with pain.
Now my kids have far more positive feelings about the dentist than I do, and I am so very thankful for that. We try to work it out so that my husband handles all the visits and planning. It works pretty well.
My son was excited to get braces, and did pretty well in the beginning. There have been some rocky spots lately, and now he has some cavities that need attention. I deeply ache for him. (I think I care more than he does.)
My daughter is cavity free, but needs to watch a spot on her gums they need to fill her molars? (My chosen ignorance isn’t always a good thing.) And my husband, who has sickeningly healthy teeth, needs to get the front four capped because of grinding.
So, we went to the dentist on Tuesday and will be returning on Tuesday. I came along the first time because the scheduling is so close to our girl’s dance class. I think the same will happen this Tuesday. I should bring along a paper bag just in case!
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