It’s Monday morning, and while my partner is at work, I’m lounging in my pajamas, contemplating a pool day with my 2-year-old. Just then, my phone pings with a text.
“Family Smile Dentistry is excited for your daughter’s 10:30 appointment today!”
Oh no! How could I forget her two-year checkup? It’s like I’m living in a scene from Home Alone, frantically scrambling to get us out the door.
Instead of a charming soundtrack, I’m muttering mild curse words in front of my impressionable child. We have less than an hour to shower, get dressed, and prepare. I switch on the iPad for my little one, toss in some Little Critter and Berenstain Bears books about dentists into my bag, and attempt to make myself somewhat presentable.
I mean, who wants to show up to a dental appointment looking like a hobo? I wash my hair, apply some mascara, and even shave my underarms—more effort than I put in for my husband, but then again, he doesn’t require a dental appointment every six months!
As I scramble to find clothes for my daughter, I realize she’s short on options. The only clean outfits available are her Christmas dress, a cowboy costume, and a Lilly Pulitzer dress from Target that I might have gone full-on Mr. Miyagi over to snag.
Lilly Pulitzer it is!
Just as I’m ready to leave, it hits me—I forgot to brush my daughter’s teeth! I face a dilemma: brush her teeth and risk being late, or show up with a toddler whose teeth look like she’s been living on candy and soda.
Eventually, I decide to let her suck on toothpaste while I drive us over to Family Smile Dentistry. Take that, tough choices!
Despite my clever plan, we still arrive late. Murphy’s Law is in full effect: the garage door refuses to close, an elderly lady strolls leisurely across the street, and I have to honk at two people who are still glued to their phones after the light has turned green.
Fortunately, the receptionist reassures me, “No problem! The dentist is running a bit behind. Feel free to wait in the waiting area.”
My daughter bolts into the waiting room, which is a kid’s paradise: 20 books, two TVs playing different shows, a train table, and buckets of toys. I, however, see a chaotic mess—torn books, questionable TV shows, and toys that probably have more germs than a public restroom.
But my little whirlwind is already diving into the chaos. Then, I see the reason for the delay: a mother storms out with her child, berating the dentist for using fluoride toothpaste, claiming it’s poisoning her child. Meanwhile, her kid is tugging on her shirt, begging for McDonald’s.
Soon enough, we’re called in. A cheerful assistant explains that she needs to take X-rays of my daughter’s mouth. My kid hops into the chair, but when she sees the size of the X-ray piece, she panics and cries.
The assistant struggles to keep her still, but my toddler is having none of it. I decide it’s time for some superhero action. I hold her mouth open and instruct them to snap the X-rays before she clamps down on my hands.
They get the photos, and I can only imagine the therapy sessions awaiting my daughter in the future. Next, we move to another room for the cleaning.
Realizing the horror of her situation, my child refuses to sit in the dentist’s chair. We compromise: she rests her head on my knees while I hold her arms. The assistant, trying to work around my squirming child, ends up triggering a vomit situation.
I maintain my composure while the assistant apologizes profusely, but my child continues to wail. The assistant tries to appease her with toys and goodie bags, but it’s not working.
Finally, the dentist arrives and reassures me that everything looks great. Meanwhile, my daughter keeps chanting “Mickey Mouse.” I inquire why she keeps saying that, and she points to a TV on the ceiling.
The assistant explains, “We have cartoons to distract the kids while they’re here.”
I shoot her a look that could kill. “You mean to tell me there’s been a distraction right above us this whole time?!”
I thank the dentist and make a hasty exit, only to be reminded by the receptionist that my daughter can’t eat or drink for 30 minutes post-cleaning. My daughter, who struggles to dress herself, immediately demands food.
As I navigate out with my freshly cleaned, vomit-covered, and very hungry child, the receptionist cheerfully says, “See you in six months!”
Clearly, I’m stuck in a never-ending cycle, much like Groundhog Day, where Bill Murray could easily play the role of a frazzled mother in a dental office.
In summary, my trip to the dentist with my toddler was a whirlwind of chaos, humor, and a reminder that dental visits can be quite the adventure.
Keyphrase: Toddler dentist trip
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