I was expecting the worst for Mallory's visit. She sat quietly in the 'ladybug' chair (named because the seat has a ladybug pattern on it) while I got my teeth cleaned. She asked a few questions: 'Why you doing that, daddy?' and 'Daddy, what's this?'; pointing to the tray of implements used to clean teeth (or extract information).
Next it was her turn. As I was putting her on my lap I told the hygienist to 'expect some objections'. I was trying to prep her for the worst. The hygienist did a wonderful job of showing Mallory each tool; the rubber rotating brush (that will tickle your teeth, I told her), the scrapey thing and the small, tilted mirror. Once the orientation was complete, the hygienist picked up the mirror, moved it toward Mallory's mouth and the most amazing thing happened ... she opened wide. And there she sat, with her mouth open ... the whole time. Not even a peep when the tooth tickler was present. This is the reason I am not a betting man.
Fast forward to Mason's 6-year appointment. I love the fact that he can talk with the nurses and doctor directly now.
Nurse: Mason, what grade are you in?
Mason: Kindergarten. I don't ride the bus.
Nurse: Mason, can you ride a bike?
Mason: No.
Daddy (interrupting): No?
Mason: I don't ride a bike to school. Daddy takes me.
All was right with the world until we discussed the second part of Mason's two part Hep-A shot. To date, Mason has been a world-class patient when it comes to vaccinations. He should wear a shirt that says something witty like, 'Gimme your best shot' or 'Shot Down in Blaze of Glory' (Both shirts would have a Bon Jovi likeness as it would save on the silk screening setup charges). If either shirt existed, he would have lost his shirt-wearing privileges today. At the first mention, he was up off the table and pacing. As the doctor left and the nurse came in, he dropped to all fours and climbed into the corner behind the exam table, bracing himself with his legs. After reasoning and calm tones failed to draw the man cub from his lair, I leaned over and yanked him out. I held him tight as I laid him down on the exam table. 'IDONTWANTASHOT!IDON'TWANTASHOT!IDON'TWANTASHOT!' I pressed my chest against his and held his underwear up (preserving what hint of dignity that had yet to escape the room) as the nurse tugged down his jeans. 'IDON'TWANTASHOT!IDON'TWANTASHOT!IDON'TWANTASHOT!'
'All done!', the nurse exclaimed.
'IDIDN'TFEELATHING', he laughed, as his sobs immediately turned to a deep chuckle. The tears and fear were instantly swept from the room. He looked up and said, 'I wanted the shot in my arm, daddy.'
1 comment:
Too funny and so very real. Love it!
Post a Comment