Little Shop of Horrors

Today I had one of the most unpleasantest of all experiences in all of my life as a mother. Today, I took the boys to the dentist.

At the last visit, everyone talked about how great Mitchell was. He opened wide, he let the dentist use all the different tools, he let her apply the fluoride treatment.

We've been talking for almost a month about going to the dentist, and Mitchell's been relatively excited. She gives him cool toys and she lets him watch his choice of movies.

Today started out just fine. He played in the waiting room while "Alvin and the Chipmunks" provided background noise. He stepped up to the scale and was weighed in like a boxer before the match.

Then, all hell broke loose.

We went into the X-Ray room ... it went about like this. Screaming. Tears. Passing Noah to nurse. Sitting on my lap. More screaming. More tears. X-Rays of top teeth only. (They attempted four different areas of the mouth.)

Then, it was time for his cleaning. Mitchell started snarling and throwing his elbows at the dental assistant. There was kicking. There were punches thrown. There was writhing on the exam table like a child in pain. Oh yes. Then he started with the screaming. My God, the screaming! You'd think she was holding him down and ripping off his toe nails, one by one. All she was doing was counting his teeth with her gloved finger. I have never heard him scream like this before, and I hope to never hear it again!

By the time she wanted to polish his teeth, I had handed Noah off to another nurse so I could restrain Mitchell. It was lovely. She did half of the top of his teeth and then stopped. He may have bit her for all I know. She stopped rather abruptly and went to get the dentist.

Once the dentist came in, he relaxed a little. She was able to brush his teeth while telling him about playing dentist and telling him to brush my teeth. Then, she had me hold him down again while she applied the fluoride treatment.

Noah was a breeze - she scrubbed his teeth, counted them, talked to me about the importance of brushing his gums ... all the usual.

I was completely frazzled by the time we left. As soon as we hit the reception area for me to pay, Mitchell had turned back into his usual self, charming the check-out receptionist.

As we're walking out, he has the nerve to ask, "Are we going to Target so I can pick out a prize now?"