The Teeth, the Whole Teeth, and Nothing but the Teeth..

(Pre-script: To get the most out of this post, before reading any further,please go down to the playlist at the bottom of this blog and click on the song"When it was over," by Sara Groves...though you will only hear a portion of the song here, you'll get the general idea...I'll wait...) (...still waiting...)

The thought of going to the dentist is not one that provides me with much comfort.

Blink blink.
I do a typical pre-dental ritual of brushing my teeth like it's an Olympic sport, flossing like it's going out of style, and swishing mouthwash for as long as I can before the mouthwash burns my gums off. Then another marathon teeth brushing. The goal is to keep the teeth scraper of doom that fastidious dental hygienists wield with deft determination and always inevitably miss at least once and stab your gums followed by an insincere "Oops! Sorry about that!" as far away as possible. Yeah, that's the goal, and I perform the pre-dental ritual every six months, right before a dental appointment.
Today, Ethan also had an appointment, so we did a scaled down version of the pre-dental ritual on him. Nothing like teaching them important life lessons young. Ethan saw how fast and furiously I was brushing my teeth, and he said "Oh, I want to do it like you...I'm going to brush my teeth Comcast fast!" So he did. And he mouth washed. And he brushed again. And then I brushed his teeth. Then I told him to change his clothes, since all of our teeth maintenance had resulted in an uncommon amount of toothpaste ending up on his clothes. (?) (Never mind the fact that if we weren't going to the dentist, he would have just stayed in that outfit for the rest of the day.)
"So, Michelle," imaginary reader asks,
"Did all of that mania improve the quality of your dental visit today?"
Hmmm. Gentle reader, now that is a good question. I guess the best answer would be..."It was hard to tell."
Ethan went to the dental chair first, bless his heart, while I sat in the lobby and read my book. Then it was my turn, and the hygienist said "He did great! His teeth look good!" PHEW! Round one, snaps to us. As he was picking out his prize from the cardboard treasure chest, I was being informed that I needed to get X-rays today.

Blink blink.

Then she told me "Oh, come on, your son did it just fine." So I said "That's because he has a bigger mouth...and he's naive."
Um, excuse me, but we are talking about X-RAYS at the DENTISTS OFFICE...The part when they put those HORRIBLE razor sharp plastic things in your mouth, in the position where it most stabs your gums, and then tell you to BITE DOWN AND HOLD IT...JUST BITE DOWN UNTIL THE THING MAKES YOU BLEED AND DON'T WORRY ABOUT YOUR TEARS, THEY ARE SURE TO BE CAUGHT BY THE PAPER TOWEL FASTENED SECURELY BENEATH YOUR CHIN. JUST HOLD THAT AND I'LL TAKE THE PICTURE NOW, GOOD, SEE, THAT WASN'T SO BAD, RIGHT? RIGHT??? NOW WE ONLY HAVE TO DO THAT 74 MORE TIMES.*
Ayeayeayeaye...
"When the X-RAY of Terror was over, did that hygienist scrape your teeth with the tooth scraper of Doom?"

Yes, gentle reader, yes she did. She scraped for the kill. She was fighting the good fight against plaque. In fact, I think that all of her inner aggression towards all the plaque in the world was channeled into the battle being waged on my teeth, and she was winning.
Blink, blink.

Friends, at some point, one has to stop and examine: "Is all of this worth it? Is keeping my teeth really THIS important? As a person who has always listed foods like Frozen Yogurt, Ice Cream, and Cream of Wheat among my favorites, how bad could a toothless life, should it come to that, really be? If you lose your teeth, it's just "Fixident, and forget it." No more twice annual mouth torture. Just "Fixident, and forget it," peeps. THINK about it, for crying out loud.

Ah, well. Ethan had a relatively groovy time, and the treasure he chose was the treasure I always chose at the dentists office when I was a kid...sunglasses! He put them right on, then whispered in my ear "Rock star!" Because he was.

And me? Well, I got a toothbrush.
Blink, blink.

*Okay, so today, I only got 3 X-rays...but it might as well have been 74.