This Will Hurt Me More Than You

Today will be torture. For Thing 3. And even more so for me. Today we go to the dentist.

To avoid a complete catastrophe when the event arrives, I have been casually mentioning it over the last week. Like when I brush his teeth, I told him he can get a NEW toothbrush when we go to the dentist. You’d think a kid would like something new. But not Thing 3. He doesn’t like change at all. He prefers his old, bent bristles, ratty toothbrush. “Nooo! I don’t want to go to the dentist!”

I didn’t mentioned it again until last night at bedtime, I reminded him that I would pick him up at school at 10:30 and we’d go to the dentist. “Nooo! I don’t want to go!”

Apparently, he was worrying about this all night. He woke up in a bad mood and, with no prompting, and has told us 137 times (I counted) that he doesn’t want to go to the dentist.

I don’t know why we even bother. A dentist visit with him consists of him kicking, screaming, and fighting while I hold him down and the dentist peeks at his teeth for 3 seconds. Money and time well spent to teach a 3 year old the importance of taking care of your teeth.

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