Have, say, major work done on your teeth, which causes you pain for days and days, and yet still try to portray dentist visits as fun, lighthearted events to be enjoyed.
I had a root canal and two crowns put on this week, and two days later, I am still only chewing the softer foods. Maeve doesn't really understand why I got to claim the last packet of oatmeal, but I tried to tell her nicely (in my before-coffee cranky voice) that my teeth still hurt from Tuesday. She's pretty confused about why my teeth could possibly STILL be hurting after two days, but I don't want to explain in great scientific detail exactly what hell my dentist put me through this week.
It was hard enough getting myself to calm down from the hysterical crying that happened between leaving the dentist's office and picking Maeve up at my friend's house. One of those days you're very grateful for sunglasses. Even picking up my husband on the way didn't help, because I got hysterical again trying to tell him what happened.
And yet, so far, she seems not to have figured out that some dentist visits are as close as we will ever get to the flames of hell. Maybe she figures that's a grownup problem. And thankfully, for her, that seems to be true.
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| There was still plenty of time for silly dress-up yesterday |
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