brusha brusha brusha

We went to the dentist yesterday.

The experience is a lot like cutting Hayden's nails, only worse. Similar to blood being drawn, but not as bad as an x-ray.
(Following previous blog posts, this will put it in accurate perspective.)

We were running late because we're (still) borrowing Poppa Z's car and had to drop it off for a tire fix and an oil change. So right before we left the house, I told Dan to wait for the car at the tire place and I'd take H to his appointment.

By the time we made it a mile and half to the stop sign at the first intersection, I had a moment of clarity (as Dan put it-- but I'd say I must have been suffering from temporary insanity). I followed Dan to the tire place so we could all go to the appointment together.

We told H about the appointment the night before, and reminded him earlier that morning. He kept telling us they were closed :(

When we pulled in the parking lot he started crying a little bit. By the time we got inside the dentist's office he was asking if we were "gun". I said, "yes, we're almost done."

He did not want to get off of my lap when the dentist met us in the examine room. Before he even made it to the patient chair, breakfast came back up.

(Our appointment reminder card for his next visit in February specifies "NO FOOD" on it, in capitol letters. And it's scheduled for an hour earlier so we can put off breakfast more easily.)

With the dentist, hygienist, two parents, half a box of tissues, and one trashed blankie, we made it through the appointment. (Sounds a lot like the tooth scene at Flora's birthday party, right? That was way easier.)

Even though H left the dentist looking like he did that morning when he and Dan returned from their weekly diner breakfast last Sunday (?) without having eaten any breakfast, he acknowledged the staff on his way out.

"Bye guys," he said in a raspy voice to anyone who was listening.

He got in the elevator clutching his "prize" bag and two toys from their drawer of tricks-- a little Sponge Bob figurine and a stretchy frog.

How many days until February?

I really hope Hayden knows that he's not actually being punished when these things happen, and they're just a part of life.