The Son had his first trip to the dentist’s office yesterday and due to my flexible work schedule, I was elected to take him. After years of dreading dental appointments of my own, it was a unique and odd sensation to be sweating out someone else’s.
My fears were unfounded though, as The Son pulled through with flying colors. I had explained beforehand that they were just going to clean his teeth like we did each night and he seemed cool with that. Fortunately, the dentist didn’t push the envelope and attempt x-rays on this visit, but I think The Son could have handled those as well.1My brother had a less successful attempt at x-rays during his first dental visit, something which is still one of my mother’s favorite stories.
So what exactly is a trip to the dentist like through the eyes of a four-year-old? “Pretty okay,” according to The Son.
He was a bit freaked out by the chair moving up and down, but he did pretty good for a child that still can’t go into an elevator without being held. Getting a toothbrush and some toothpaste was okay, they had a basket of small toys that he could play with, Playhouse Disney was on in the waiting room…it was all good.
Unlike the dentist I went to as a kid (who hadn’t touched a thing in his office since about 1953), our new dentist has flat-panel televisions mounted on arms extending from the patients’ chairs. It’s good to see that my insurance bills are going somewhere worthwhile.
After the hygenist finished cleaning his teeth, she turned on the television while we waited for the dentist to come in and do his final inspection. Apparently, this was the most incredible thing ever. From that point on, The Son was so focused on Dora the Explorer that he could no longer interface with the outside world.
The dentist came in and did his schtick, but he might as well have been talking to a ham sandwich. The Son didn’t respond when he was asked about his name. He didn’t respond when he was asked about the cleaning. He didn’t respond when he was asked about school, brushing his teeth, or the weather. Yet the dentist kept going. I guess you get used to not paying attention to people’s answers when you hold most of your conversations with your hands in their mouths.
I tried to make some feeble excuse about it being a little early for The Son, but I’m sure the dentist made some notation in his file: “This one’s a mute, don’t bother with chit-chat.”
Almost making as big of an impression as the television was Mr. Thirsty—that’s what the hygenist called that little vacuum they use to suck up the gallons of water and gunk they pump into your mouth.2I’m assuming that what she calls it for little kids and not just in general, because Mr. Thirsty didn’t appear to have a name during my appointment the previous week. He was apprehensive about the first use of Mr. Thirsty, but subsequently decided that it was pretty darn funny and the hygenist had to tell him to not laugh so much each time she used it.
When we got to school after his appointment, the teacher asked him where he had been that morning and they talked about it for a minute or two. Then she asked what the dentist’s name was.
“Mr. Thirsty,” he replied exuberantly.
- 1My brother had a less successful attempt at x-rays during his first dental visit, something which is still one of my mother’s favorite stories.
- 2I’m assuming that what she calls it for little kids and not just in general, because Mr. Thirsty didn’t appear to have a name during my appointment the previous week.
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