You can't handle the tooth

Little man had his third dentist checkup this morning. He was cute and happy while we waited; the waiting room even possessed an 'unabridged' (e.g. regular hardcover) Dr. Seuss's ABC's, which surprised me by demonstrating just how many modifications his board book version has. Ah, the joys of an edited childhood. The actual dentist appointment started off okay; little man sat in my lap and smiled at the hygienist. But when the chair started going down, he started to get unhappy, and with toothbrush and mirrors in mouth, he melted down with streaming tears. Even Dora on a big screen suspended over him couldn't distract him - maybe if they had Murray's word on the street? He calmed down afterwards, and was again briefly smiley for our super friendly dentist when she appeared a few minutes later, only to cry again when she did her exam.

There aren't the long list of exciting stats like at the pediatrician's office, but Zachary does now have 16 teeth, including his soon-to-be-fully-in canines. No tooth decay, a good bite (Meh was concerned he needed braces already with his underbite smile, but the dentist said he's just figuring out where to position his jaws), and a 6 month reprieve until his next appointment. They even gave him a little Chuck E. Cheese-like token to take to a stand of toy dispensers at the sign-out desk. Meh selected a very cute little ducky on a string loop (a duck necklace -- a ducklace?), which we spent the rest of the day trying to pry out of the little plastic shell it was delivered in.