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Tue, Jun 20, 2006 8:00 PM
How Did I Get So Lucky?

Calvin had his first dentist appointment today after rescheduling twice already (I swear to god his body knows when he has an appointment and automatically kicks into Fever Mode just to irritate me).

After talking up the dentist for the past year, he was AMPED to go and was actually crushed when we had to reschedule last time due to his fever. He reminded me all the way into school this morning that he was going to the dentist and did he really have to go to school because how could he possibly concentrate when there was a dentist to visit? When I dropped him off at school WITHOUT FIRST VISITING THE DENTIST, he was not pleased.

Unfortunately for us, his appointment time happened to fall right in the middle of his normal nap time and before you report me once again to CPS, please know that I was not about to reschedule this appointment ONE MORE TIME and we'd all just have to deal with The Royal Crank so we could finally just go see the dentist already. I could have picked a better time, but I wanted his teeth to be checked BEFORE he graduated from high school and moved away.

Thankfully he wasn't too crabby when I woke him up and once he realized that SWEET LORD, IT'S TIME FOR THE DENTIST?, he quickly shifted out of crank mode and chattered all the way to his appointment about how he was finally getting to see the Disneyland of Doctor's Offices.

Walking into the office, he became a little hesitant when he realized how suspisciouly similar it looked to his regular doctor's office, you know, the one that administers shots with foot-long needles. But then he realized that this meant he could practice his newfound potty skills at yet another new toilet (have I mentioned how obsessed with using new toilets this child is?).

Shortly after christening a new toilet, Calvin was called back and we went into the room especially for children as it had a TV on the ceiling and was playing Danny Phantom. Sweet. I don't think the hygienist was impressed with me lying on the floor to get a better view of the TV.

After a few moments of hesitation, Calvin decided to go ahead and sit in the gigantic moving chair and wear the gigantic paper bib if it meant he could sneak in a little cartoon time. The hygienist let him pick which flavor toothpaste to use (cinnamon!) and showed him how everything worked. His eyes got a little big when she turned on the polisher, but when she let him touch it to see that it didn't hurt, he was OK again. I, however, had to be coaxed out from under the desk.

He then sat still and opened his mouth wide like an old pro. He was thoroughly impressed with the water pik and the slobber-sucking thingie and by the time it was the dentist's turn to look at his teeth, he didn't hesitate to show her how good he was at opening wide and saying, "ahhh.."

Once he was all done, he sprinted for the toy basket and showed everybody in the waiting room the cool toothbrush he'd scored. And then he didn't stop talking about it until I dropped him off back at school. As I walked out the door, he was still telling anyone who would listen about his dentist visit. I was so proud I floated back to the car and reluctantly drove back to work.

My Calvin, my big boy, had no cavities and everything looked fantabulous. We both left the office with our chests all puffed up. We're kind of sad like that. But we've got good teeth!

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Mon, Jun 12, 2006 5:00 AM
Differences

When I was 9 years old, one phrase that was certain to bring me to my knees and weep with tears of joy was hearing that I had gotten the New Kids On The Block cassette tape for my birthday.

When I was 16 years old, a phrase that was certain to bring the same fate was hearing that I had successfully passed my driver's test and was the proud owner of a handy-dandy official-like driver's license. Which meant I could drive the car ALL BY MYSELF and mom could go ahead and earmark that extra money for sure-to-rise insurance premiums. Oh and auto-body repairs.

Now that I am "turkey-six" years old and have a little boy in the throes of potty training, I'm somewhat embarrassed to say that the phrase that has brought me to my knees weeping tears of joy was hearing that same little boy yell from the bathroom that he had just pooped in the potty all by himself and WHERE IS THE PRESENT HE WAS PROMISED?!

I hope I'm not jinxing myself by saying that, by George, I do believe we have ourselves a potty trained child.

P.S. And please forget I ever wept with joy for getting a NKOTB tape. I don't care that I was 9. That doesn't make it right.

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Tue, Jun 6, 2006 6:00 AM
Pride

There's nothing quite like picking up your child's poop after a potty accident to take you down a notch or twelve.

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