Today Kristen had her first dental visit--a happy visit as the dentist's office likes to call it. You've probably all done them. The goal is to introduce your child to the dentist and help them feel comfortable having foreign things in their mouth.
Lisa, the hygienist, seems a little nervous. She talks to my three-year old as though she were Misha's age and could understand the idea of a little tube sucking the spit out of her mouth. By this point, Kristen looks at the little tube and you can see the fear creeping into her eyes. Next Lisa introduces the polisher. Kristen is fine letting her run the polisher against her thumb, but move it toward her mouth and cries began to escape. Much to Kristen's disappointment though--she is doing her best to keep her lips clamped shut! Such a happy visit so far.
I must admit, I proceed to ruin it for Kristen. Lisa somehow succeeds in polishing Kristen's eight front (top and bottom) teeth. "Now don't swallow the paste," Lisa admonishes a three-year old on the verge of tears again, as she brings the spit-sucking tube closer to Kristen's mouth. I jump in and say, "Let's let her spit in the sink next to her." So, I try to pick Kristen up and just as she is spitting, my grip slips and Kristen falls against the sink and bloodies her lip! Way to go, Mom.
There's no way Kristen's letting the dentist continue this charade. The only happy thing about this visit is her new tooth brush and tiny tube of tooth paste (or poop paste as she says) which Kristen clutches to her chest.
"Well, let's try a happy visit again in six months." Dr P says. Sure, we can try that. The problem I see is not being able to erase the memory of this not-so-happy visit.
