I don't remember my first trip to the dentist, but I won't forget Hannah's any time soon.
It started off well, if you ignore the "I don't want to go to the dentist! I don't want to go the dentist . . . " that drowned out any attempt at conversation on the way there. She brought flowers for the receptionist--plucked from the yard on the way to the car and only a little wilted. The waiting area had a large fish tank, two arcade-style games and a toy box, so there was plenty to distract her while we waited. She was fine until we got to the "scream room," separated from the other dental chairs by a glassed wall and a door. She even liked the magic chair--"Look Mommy, it goes up and down and back and . . . nooooooooo!" That's when the hygenist realized that maybe Hannah hadn't been relaxed enough after all.
To get the xrays, I had to sit in the chair with Hannah sitting on my lap, my legs wrapped around hers, my hands holding hers under the blanket (except when I had to help pry her jaws open). For the actual exam and cleaning, the reclined chair made it much easier for her to pound my shins with her heels. Note to self: Next time, take off the shoes. I keep thinking how lucky that it was just my shins that got banged up when it could have been a flying shoe through the camera or some other, equally expensive, piece of equipment.
When the exam was finally over, Hannah, tears still running down her face, said good-bye to the hygenist, adding, "I had SUCH a good time today!" She actually sounded like she meant it! And Charlotte, so patient at first and then increasingly traumatized by Hannah's screams, gets to go next week. At least she isn't tall enough yet to reach my shins.
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