Dentists

My darling son had his first dentist visit today. It was a bit of a travesty. He took one look at the other patients (they had an open layout with only desks dividing the chairs) and a look of horror crossed over his three-year-old face. But he bravely climbed up into the chair, armed with a stuffed animal, prepared for the worst. He smiled gamely when they took his first dentist visit picture, though to me it looked like he was about to face a firing squad. She revealed the dental tools, and I noticed him staring at the dental pick like–Oh, God, no. What is that THING?

But it was all over when she turned on the polisher to show him how it tickled. The grinding sound made his little face screw up with an “Oh, HELL, no” look to it. It’s a wonder he didn’t flee from the chair. I tried to convince him to touch it. You’d have thought I asked him to touch a rattlesnake. We tried to have him open his mouth so she could look at his teeth. My son gave me a look that basically said–are you on CRACK, Mom? No way.

So, needless to say, he picked up his free toothbrush, waved at the hygienist (at which point she got the first glimpse of his teeth with his big smile of goodbye-you-weird-scary-people).

We’ll try again in six months. Sigh.