We took the lil’ monkey for her first dental visit this week. I know, I know. We could have taken her earlier — should have taken her earlier. The American Dental Association recommends they come in as soon as the first teeth appear, and no later than the first year.
Yep. Remember, this is the dentists talking.
Our first visit clocked in at the average, which is when the kid’s around three years old. (Fortunately this was A-OK with our pediatrician, who must not golf with dentists, or if she does, she must be carrying a grudge from when the cart ran over her foot that one time.)
Least we’ve been brushing the little things since they first broke through the gums and began to put a crimp — d’oh! — in the ol’ nursing routine.
The lil’ monkey took along her little buddies Amahl and Amahl’s mother (natch).
I already love the dentist (who’ll be seeing to Mama’s and Baba’s teeth soon). She came highly recommended, has a family practice, and obviously loves working with children, who love her back. Or at least ours did. The lil’ monkey was as relaxed as if she were having a manicure.
I also love our dentist’s chief dental hygenist, who’s her sister (I said it was a family practice, didn’t I?). She has two daughters (10 and 16), and managed in our brief exchange, as she buffed and polished the lil’ monkeys choppers, to convey to me a number of pearls of wisdom regarding getting through — and appreciating — these early years. Just what I needed to hear, and when.
As you can see, the lil’ monkey would have gladly let her park a car in there.
It really was a quite enjoyable experience. Wonder what mighta helped? Besides their impeccable professionalism, their abundant warmth, and their many years of experience?
I mean what would you do, if you had a drill in one hand and a kid in the chair in front of you?