It Won't Hurt a Bit, I Promise

Iain had his first visit to the dentist last week. Naturally, it snowed that morning. But whatever. Utahns know how to deal with snow.

The office was pretty great, as it turned out. They had a little room with risers for sitting and toys and a wall-mounted TV playing Despicable Me. When we retired to a private room (actually, semi-private. There was an adolescent getting his teeth cleaned next to us), they had flat screen TVs mounted on the ceiling, so you could lay back and watch the same movie while you submitted to a scrubbing.

Iain cried during the cleaning, but he permitted it. He opened his mouth, he didn't bite, and he calmed down as soon as it was done. He even allowed them to X-ray his teeth. It's weird to see his grown-up teeth in there. Weird.

Then we waited for the actual dentist, and Iain got a little fidgety. You just can't keep toddlers waiting. But eventually Dr. Someone arrived, and he proclaimed the need for braces (one day) and we got a goodie bag and left.

Iain loves that goodie bag. It had a toothbrush (with a character named Diego on it), a small tube of Crest Kids toothpaste (which he likes because it's sparkly), and a small soccer-ball colored SuperBall. We have not shown Iain what a SuperBall can do.

So that was that. Except that I guess he was inspired, because now he wants to brush his teeth all the time. This morning we sent him to wash his hands after brekkie and what did he do? Obsessively scrub his teeth (ok, he wets the brush, sucks off the water, then leans over and shouts "PIT!" and spits a little).

[A little context: as I write this, he's in his room, slamming blocks around, and singing, veryveryfast, "Muffin Man! Muffin Man! Muffin Man!" It's supposed to be Nap Time.]

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