Six months ago, our friendly neighborhood mom took her oldest three kids to the dentist.
The most excellent pediatric dentist, to be precise.
At the end of that appointment, Ms. Dentist glanced at the little duo crawling around the office floor and asked their age.
"Eight months," replied the neighborhood mom.
Ms. Dentist admonished the mom to have the duo's teeth examined by age one.
The neighborhood mom groaned inwardly, thinking "Oh, puh-lease," but she agreed to schedule an appointment for the little duo in six months.
Six months fly by, and soon it is time to take the (now walking) duo--and their three older siblings--for a dental exam.
No one is in the waiting room when the entourage arrives at the office. These appointments are the last of the day. Our neighborhood mom doesn't appreciate that yet--but she will soon.
The older children are having their x-rays and cleanings while our friendly mom fills out oodles of paperwork for the twins. Rheumatic fever? Epilepsy? Heart murmurs or chemotherapy or hospitalizations? No to all, but for one little check--a "yes" to frequent ear infections.
Ms. Dentist's young and vibrant hygenist comes to the waiting room for a chat. Among the many questions she poses to our mom is this one:
"How often are you brushing the twins' teeth?"
Pause.
Mom: "Um, twice a week?"
Another solemn pause.
Hygenist, quite seriously, replies, "Well, thank you for your honesty."
(What this hygenist does not know is that our friendly neighborhood mom issued a pathetic little fib. She has brushed the twins' teeth maybe twice... in their fourteen months of life.)
Soon it is time for Ms. Dentist to exam Twin One. "Bring back the 'chill baby' first."
Our friendly mom brings back Chill Baby. Sitting across from our mom, Ms. Dentist instructs mom to lay the baby's legs in her lap, with baby's head in Ms. Dentist's lap. Chill Baby begins to wail.
Ms. Dentist pokes a mirror around in wailing baby's mouth and makes the following pronouncement:
"She. Has. Plaque."
Our friendly mom is stunned at this pronouncement. Stunned that it even matters, stunned that Ms. Dentist is taking it so very seriously. To herself, she thinks, "Oh, well, they're going to fall out anyway."
Then our neighborhood mom watches in amazed silence as Ms. Dentist whips out the bubble-gum flavored dental polish and begins polishing all eight of Chill Baby's teeth.
When she's done polishing, Ms. Dentist begins the flossing process.
Our neighborhood mom bites her cheeks and works hard to suppress the huge belly-aching, eye-watering laughter that wants to erupt out of her.
Meanwhile, gripped in a headlock, Chill Baby is in full freak-out mode.
Ms. Dentist sits up, declares the job done, and instructs mom to take Chill Baby to the waiting room and bring back Not-Chill Baby.
Our neighborhood mom runs to the waiting room, where her oldest daughter, at age nine, is watching the four-year-old brother and the one-year-old brother. Mom sits Chill Baby--still wailing--on the floor.
"Do the best you can," says mom to daughter. Daughter looks on forlornly.
Mom grabs Not-Chill Baby (who, ironically, is totally chill at this moment), and she runs back to the exam room.
The same scenario is repeated, except that Not-Chill Baby is perfectly content in his headlock while getting his cleaning.
However. Not-Chill Baby "has less plaque but more mineral deposits."
Oh.
Meanwhile, to lighten the mood, our friendly mom makes a joke to the onlooking staff about her infrequent brushing of the babies'' teeth.
An uncomfortable silence follows.
Not-Chill Baby's cleaning is completed, and our unsettled neighborhood mom bolts out to the waiting room, where Chill Baby is still wailing, and from whence she has just heard a crash.
Chill Baby now has snot dripping off her face and onto the toys.
Four-year-old has dumped out the bucket of blocks and is swimming in them on the floor.
An office employee looks on unhappily. Our mom apologizes profusely to her for the chaos.
The employee gives her a pained smile in reply.
Ms. Dentist comes to the waiting room as our neighborhood mom, now in a cold sweat, is holding Chill Baby--who is still wailing--and cleaning up toys.
"Remember, no fruit snacks, juice boxes, lollipops, or raisins," says Ms. Dentist.
Our neighborhood mom smiles and nods in reply.
"Oh, and chronic ear infections as an infant causes hypercalcification of the adult teeth. You ought to know that."
Again, our neighborhood mom smiles and nods in reply.
"And, also, make sure you or your husband are the ones brushing your children's teeth until they are about age ten."
At this, our neighborhood mom's auto-pilot smile becomes a bit wider. She croaks out a quiet "thank you," schedules the next round of appointments, and gathers the brood to make a hasty exit.
When they arrive at home, and after dinner, our neighborhood mom and her three oldest kids each enjoy a large, chewy-center lollipop.
Because after what they've been through, a treat is in order.
(Note: I actually really like the kids' dentist. She is very kind and very thorough, albeit a bit extreme.)
