This morning my 7-year-old son Jackson is going to the dentist. He didn't know until this morning, because he would have obsessed himself sick and I would just be tired of playing 20 questions (more like 20,000 questions) about the upcoming dentist trip.
Going to the dentist is a lot different than I was as a kid. We didn't have video games in the treatment area. We had shots and Novocaine not pinches and sleepy water. To our credit, however, we got those groovy spit sinks and plenty of radiation damage from the old skool X-rays, not to mention those Mercury-filled fillings.
But I still get nervous when I get there, open the door and smell that dentist small (antiseptic and burning drilled teed) whooshes out. Suddenly I'm 7 again and I'm not looking forward to the experience, no matter what they call the stuff. But luckily, one thing has never changed - the good kid treasure chest. There is no amount of drilling that can't be forgotten by a cheap plastic ring, some pencils and a sticker. Oh, and Slurpee. 7-11 is our traditional family post-dentist-visit treat!
So have a great day and we will see you at 7-11 with our treasure chest booty and our sleepy water wearing off!
Cristy
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