Who knew?

So, the DENTIST. Not exactly a favorite topic around here... but really, is it anywhere? The first time we took Kortland to the dentist, he was one year old. He was a fast teether, and already had eight front teeth (4 tops, 4 bottoms) and a whole herd of molars on their way in. Now, as many of you know, Kort was an Angel Baby. Like, sweet to the point of unbelief. He was a saint at every pediatric appointment we went to, which, being that they are every. single. 2. months... that' saying a lot! So I figured our first trip to the dentist would be a breeze.

Not so.

It was a nightmare.

There was screaming. There was kicking. There was so much crying, that I thought (on numerous occasions) that I was going to punch the dentist and run out of there, child clutched to chest, and screaming as though the building was on fire, out of sheer maternal instinct triggered by all of the blood-curdling cries I had never before heard coming from my child.

And that was just a check up.
Yup.
Yikes.

And so.

You may (or totally may not) understand when I tell you that we didn't go back. (Yes, I am an idiot) and life sort of just flew by. And then my one year old was suddenly three. We went again, and it was horrible again, and we were SO DONE! We just couldn't imagine going back. So we um, didn't.

Two more years flew by, and he was suddenly a 5 year old...who was complaining of a toothache. A toothache that resulted in not one, not two, no... not even three, but FOUR flipping root canals in the back of his mouth. (This is the part where I want to crawl into a hole and die of embarrassment. Bad mommy! What were you thinking!?)

We did our very best to mentally prepare him for a "big, five year old" trip to the dentist this time around. We read books about Little Critter (a favorite round these parts) going to the dentist, and a moose going to the dentist... and all sorts of other cheerful, woodland creatures visiting their local dentist all with happy results... (of course.) We had long and exciting talks about toy aisles full of possibility and generously sized post-dental milk shakes that were to be given to him all in the name of good behavior. There was talk of stickers...and praise... being a "big boy..." You name it.

And once we had him properly brainwashed, we took him to the dentist (again) where he got eight (gasp, yes, I just said EIGHT) shots in his mouth and then had a complete stranger in a white coat drill down to his bleeping jaw bone. At this point, Kortland was high as a kite on laughing gas. He was sobbing, then laughing, then cringing, then laughing, then pushing the dentist away and then stating for the record that he didn't want any toys, milk shakes, stickers, or praise...he just wanted to leave, like, right now! We calmed him down (he was seriously a champ once all of those shots finally kicked in) and got through it, but MAN, did I feel like a traitor!

We then drove home, pale-faced and guilt-ridden, with a tripped out five year old who kept asking if we could see "All those purple cows in the field right there" and "fingers that were made of bananas."

{"David after the Dentist" ain't got nothin' on this kid!}

So, good luck, us. Good luck ever talking him into THAT again ...ever.

Flash forward to 3 months ago.
(Did you get that? Flash forward to... um... still in the past. Good. There it is. Got it. I make so much sense sometimes, it's scary.)

My dear friend, Laura, (great name, eh?) gets a new job at a Pediatric Dentist's office in Lehi. One night, we go to their home for dinner. (Bless her sweet soul. She works all day and still finds time to cook dinner for her very nauseated pregnant friend who becomes too sick to eat dinner if she cooks it herself.) During our dinner conversation, the new job comes up. She says she loves it there, though I can't imagine why. The routine torture of innocent, screaming little children sounds a bit stressful to me personally, but hey, to each her own.

And then, she tells me about the lasers.

Yes, I just said lasers, and no this isn't a segway into a discussion about my favorite sci-fi novels, or a plug about how I thought that the Star Trek movie was wicked-cool, and how I suspect that Trekkies everywhere nearly went out of their minds from a coolness overdose when that puppy hit the theaters, and so on...

Nope. Not about that at all.

I'm talking about lasers that drill into teeth! How crazy is that?

It just so happens that someone figured out that you can use lasers to drill out cavities...and it also just so happens that when said laser is used, it STUNS the nerves in your teeth, and you don't need ANY shots, and you don't feel a thing! How great is that? (Answer: Pretty great indeed.)

Luckily, Kortland was sitting right there as we talked about it, and I said:

"Kortland! How cool is that!? Would you like to go to a dentist like that instead?"

{Can you guess what his answer was? Yep. A pretty enthusiastic "Yes!"}

So we went. And it was great. More than great.



In fact, my big strong hubs (who also realllly doesn't like going to the dentist) agreed to get his teeth fixed too! Yay!


{Here is the hubs modeling the cool protective eye wear for the lasers.}

I may be totally on the slow end of things here, but I was so excited about this little discovery! After 4 root canals and a trip to the emergency room where my baby boy had five stitches sewn into his face... I needed a little break from the guilt of voluntarily inflicting pain on my child! That's not to say that any of us are bad parents for gong to a normal dentist. Not at all. That's just to say that I am too much of a wuss to deal with the shots any more. Not with the genetically inferior teeth I have sadly bestowed upon my child anyway...

So thanks Dr. Richter!

FYI: He is in Lehi and his practice is called Dry Creek Pediatric Dentistry He even offers a ten percent discount for parents who don't have insurance. (Kinda nice, for people like, um, US!) Go here to see a map to their location.