Sweet Tooth

Today Joe had his first dental visit. Our dentist is wonderful. She is a pediatric dentist and a mother of two little girls. In her presense the kids feel at ease and she does not have to work hard to achieve a rapport with the boys, it is genuine. They feel it and I feel it.

I feel it so much so, that I wish she was my dentist. I hate visiting the dentist, even for a cleaning. And heaven help us all if I need something in addition to a cleaning.

When I was a teenager we had a great dentist. I was old enough to drive myself to see him when I needed some work done and I thought that I was so awesome. The best part about going on my own was my mother wasn't there to poo-poo my disdain for visiting the dentist. I actually really liked our dentist. He was a family friend so I had seen him socially, too.

One time in particular I voiced my fear and hatred for having my teeth cleaned and Dr.Mike did something that changed my world forever. He gave me the nitrous gas! For a cleaning! Because I was uncomfortable! Sweet bliss! Why am I using so many exclamation points!

From that day on, going to the dentist wasn't so bad. At least, until he stopped taking our insurance and moved away.

Such is the story of my life.

That gas was really good though. Nothing seems to matter when you are all hopped up on the nitrous.

Someone please note the date of this post. It may be important when I am at the Blowing Breeze Rehab for dental gas addicts.

So here is Joe after visiting the dentist.


So little and yet, so big. Don't you just want to dip him in cheese and call him fondue with that rockin' haircut? I do.