Dental drama

WCK had her first dentist appointment of her life this morning. I admit I was a little bit nervous about how it was going to go, but lately she has been getting through haircuts and doctor visits -- even flu shots -- like a champ, so I figured it would be OK in the end.

Oh, I am a naive mother.

We spent a few days preparing, being all happy and breezy about how great it would be at the dentist's office. We went to the dentist's web site and looked at photos of the office and talked about everything that would happen there. She'd even been playing "dentist" with her dinosaurs. One dinosaur would be the patient, one would be the dentist, and one would be the hygienist. I figured that since she knew and could pronounce the word "hygienist" that we'd be OK.

Again, naive.

WCK was perfectly fine ... until the hygienist suggested that she sit in the chair. What happened was so traumatic that I can't bear to recount it in words. Instead I will use photos.

WCK before being asked to sit in the chair:




WCK after being asked to sit in the chair:

Once the dust cleared, however, her teeth were sparkling clean and I was told she has healthy teeth and no cavities. They allowed us to make another appointment in six months, although I'm guessing they're going to stock up on holy water before they allow us into the building again. Also, I'm pretty sure the hygienist is re-thinking her career choice or, at the very least, having a nice stiff drink after work. I know I could use one.