Tropic of Dentist

Sharing this delightful list after a harrowing dentist appointment for my son (and his parents), in which despite kiddie valium being administered, despite the unfortunately Hannibal-Lecter-like restraints and despite the nose mask pumping in “giggle stuff”, my son raged quite effectively at having his mouth poked and a few of his teeth saved. Part of me is glad he is so strong and has so much fight in him. The other part of me feels as if she was eaten by a tornado. Yet another top secret part of me wonders whose side of the family the offending teeth came from as my teeth are fine—now—so obviously on my husband’s side of the family someone had teeth issues in the grand manner of George Washington. And then I scold myself for such top secret thoughts as seeing my son drugged was so emotionally debilitating I had to leave the room, go to the car, take deep breaths and phone lifelines before returning to my little family. I cannot imagine what it’s like for parents with hospitalized children. If dentist torture is the worst we ever have to go through, I’ll take it. And write about it later. And be grateful my husband and I are competent tag-teamers for a boy who is usually a fireball of good health. And now, borrowing from numbers 7 and 8, I shall not be a draught-horse, nor work with pleasure only, but retire to my bed office and keep human (with hatches closed down tight–but no bloody cleavers flashing, thank you, H.M.).