The Wernets go to the Dentist

The thing about 2-year-olds is that you never know which kid is going to show up. Could be an angel, could be, well... For example, when we took Nellie to the race a few weeks ago, we purposely went with no expectations. We knew she would either run her heart out with a big smile on her face, or do exactly what she did. Not pretty.

It's because of this uncertainly that I have a pathological fear of a) taking the girls to get professional portraits taken, and b) taking Nellie to the dentist. My good friend recently had to leave the dentist's office before her normally good-natured son even sat in the chair because he ran away screaming from any grown-up who came near. But Kevin and I both had our annual dentist appointments back-to-back on Monday, and I resolved to make an appointment for Nellie while we were there. During my cleaning, the hygienist told me horror stories about the toddlers who came in and had to be physically restrained. Ugh.

As it turned out, Kevin brought the girls in for the tail end of my appointment and Nellie ran around excitedly looking at the fish in the tank, the buckets of prizes, and the photos on the wall of kids after their visits to the dentist. She met the hygienist and the dentist and admired my new toothbrush. When I went to the desk to inquire about an appointment for Nellie, they offered to squeeze her in right then before Kevin's scheduled time. Well, I jumped on it, if for no other reason than I could get it over with without losing sleep.

And wouldn't ya know, she was perfect. She climbed right up in the chair. She put on the funny bib and the sunglasses. She opened her mouth wide. She let the hygienist count, polish, and put fluoride on her teeth. She picked out a sparkly toothbrush and matching pencil. We sneakily convinced the dentist to tell her not to drink milk in the middle of the night. And that was that.

I was giddily happy that it went so well, and made a not-funny joke about the toothless Annie coming back in 5 years. Out of habit I swiped my finger along her gums, and lo and behold, her first tooth had broken through.