“Come on, Andy, just a little bit? The nice dentist wants to look in your mouth,” I pleaded. Andy gave his trademark glower, stuck out his bottom lip, and shook his head. “UH-UH”, came his reply. I couldn’t really blame the kid; a trip to the dentist isn’t my idea of fun, either. We’d spent the previous week watching videos about what the dentist does and why, reading books about healthy mouths, and practicing check-ups. Andy lay on his back while I made him giggle and pretended to clean his teeth. But in the moment, it was too overwhelming, and I had to cut him some slack. Any three-year-old would be leery of mask-wearing people trying to shine a light in their mouth. Isn’t that the stuff of nightmares? I was impressed that he was still in the dentist’s chair, and not karate kicking his way to the front door!
Dr. Murphy was calm as she spoke softly to Andy (she’s definitely a pro!). She pointed out the TV in the ceiling; as Andy’s jaw dropped in wonder, she snuck a peek in his mouth. She rattled off some technical terms to the hygienist, but basically, Andy’s teeth looked great! All those late-night squabbles about brushing had paid off! Finishing up, the hygienist handed Andy a silver coin and said he could pick a prize for being such a good patient. We headed out of the exam room and down the hall, where a bank of coin-operated gumball machines waited. Instead of candy, these machines had teddy bears, plastic jewelry, and toy cars to choose from! Clutching a new Hot Wheels car, I paid the bill and we headed to the car. “I wuv the dentist!” Andy said as I buckled him up. I never thought I’d hear my kid say that!
Dentists nowadays are a far cry from what I knew as a child. Dull, grey walls and hard plastic chairs have given way to soothing color palettes and ergonomic seats. And thankfully, techniques have improved, too. Who else remembers the torture of foam trays of fluoride shoved on your teeth? The hygienist would toss the suction tube in your mouth, and you’d struggle to breathe for fifteen minutes (that felt like forty-five) while she went for a smoke break. She’d come back reeking of tobacco and say, “how are we doing?” Covered in saliva and choking silently, all I could say was something like “maht ood” (not good). I still can’t stand the sound of squeaking foam to this day!
Happily, Andy will be spared this torment. I find it funny that with all the advancements in dental care, the best way of removing plaque is still just scraping it off your teeth with sharp hooks. Isn’t there a better way? And couldn’t it be found soon? I only ask because my check-up is next month, and I don’t wanna go!
