I am a little frustrated right now. This morning we went to Baby Sister’s appointment at a new pediatric dentist. I wanted to try a new one as an experiment.  I just wanted to see if a pediatric dentist even exists who doesn’t run a tight factory production line operation, with children lined up in chairs and the dentist uttering two words to each, poking around briefly in their mouth and then moving onto the next. Without even a goodbye. 

 

I wanted to see if this imaginary dentist would have a hygienist who didn’t sound like they were reading their lines from a script. Because my son is six years old and last time even he had enough of the faltering rendition of “This is Squirty Squirter he’s going to squirt water in your mouth see Squirty Squirter’s squirting, it’s just water see. Now let’s meet Bobby Brush he tastes good and he makes a whizzing sound listen to the whizzing sound… ” after the first three minutes and was looking at me like “What has this woman been smoking???” 

 

And I’m not even going to mention the dental assistant who handed the T-Bot his “sleepy juice” before dental work with the words “Ewww. It tastes yucky!”. 

 

Anyway. I just thought I would check all this stuff out. So I phoned and made an appointment with Our-New-Dentist and gave them my insurance details and wished I didn’t feel the need to try new medical professionals each time in search of the perfect one. Because what with all the phoning and exchange of details and form filling that goes on, I am losing hours of my life here. Hours which could be spent either productively or in watching Season 3 of Weeds. Take your pick, it’s all good.

 

But I made the effort and we arrived on time and Baby Sister was even excited about Her Turn at Our-New-Dentists! But we never got past the waiting room. Because when we arrived they informed me that they don’t accept our insurance after all. The lady was very nice about it and gave Baby Sister another free toothbrush to add to her free toothbrush collection, but still … she didn’t offer to pay my gas money or refund my time. Or put my children back in their PJs and arrange them in front of PBS Kids. And then I realised I had a bigger problem. 

 

The Not-Our-New-Dentist’s waiting room was amazing. It was enormous. It had trains of every description, and building blocks, and Finding Nemo running on the TV (like actually running, without us having to ask!). While I was discussing our ultimate rejection with the receptionist (who, by the way, was not sitting behind glass!), my three children had settled in and were playing contentedly. You could tell by their faces that I was the Best Mommy Ever for bringing them there. 

 

So I let them play for another few minutes but we were the only people waiting and I started to feel a little uncomfortable freeloading off Not-Our-New-Dentist, especially as we already had our free toothbrush… so we left. 

 

And as we left, the Wictor started wailing, “Noooooo! Nooooo! Wanna More Dennis! More Dennis!” 

 

My sentiments exactly.