Twenty-Ten

We had a dentist appointment early (9.45!) this morning. It’s the third time we’ve been and the first time that I didn’t shake uncontrollably and have tears gushing into my ears while on my back with my mouth open. Not that I was ever frightened or anything, I just usually have that strange physical reaction. Ms R happily hopped into the chair to be looked at and presented with a sticker, no worries there either. But this story is really about Master R and his rotten tooth. He was just over two when I first noticed the back tooth which looks as though it has crumbled in half and decayed. On both our previous visits to the dentist he has hidden into my shoulder and refused to open his mouth. In the last six months despite reading many books about trips to the dentist and discussing the importance of getting your teeth checked Master R has maintained that he is never ever going to show anyone his teeth. So I changed tactics and decided to put his defiance to good use. I explained that me and Ms R were going to get our teeth checked and of course, he immediately asked if he could come too. I told him he could come but that he probably wasn’t grown-up enough to have a turn at which point his defiance kicked in. So he climbed up into the chair and bravely opened his mouth while holding my hand with an iron grip. I stood ready for a telling off, expecting to see a look of horror on the dentists face before he embarked on a lecture about sweets and brushing. But instead of a berating for being such a bad, bad Mummy he explained that the tooth had fluorisis rather than decay. He asked if Master R had been treated for an infection when he was younger and told me not to worry about it because eventually it will fall out and hopefully the permanent tooth won’t have been affected. I’m not sure I can describe what it feels like to have twelve months worth of guilt lifted from my shoulders.