Parenting
By: Laura Jennings
Updated: July 8, 2021
Originally Published: Dec. 18, 2010
So, my three-year-old, Max, faced his very first dental appointment, only to discover he had a cavity. It quickly became evident that he would need some extra support to get through the filling process, so we scheduled another visit for him to receive a mild sedative and nitrous oxide to help him relax. The night before the appointment, I was an absolute wreck. What if something went wrong?
We arrived, and in a scene reminiscent of Alice in Wonderland, he was given tiny cups labeled simply “1” and “2.” He gulped them down without hesitation. Next, we were ushered into a cozy room complete with a couch and a softly playing TV. The lights were dimmed, and the assistant reassured me that he would soon become less active and might even doze off. “Don’t worry if he falls asleep,” she said.
An hour passed. One whole hour where I watched my son bounce between the couch and a bookshelf, using it as a trampoline while he grabbed book after book until the shelf was bare. Concerned, I stepped out and inquired if it was normal for kids to get hyper before calming down. The response was a definitive no. By the time the dentist was ready, Max was practically bouncing off the walls. He chose bubblegum scent for the nitrous oxide mask, but the dentist informed me that he was among the “10%” of children who reacted oppositely to the sedation. The laughing gas had no effect whatsoever. Not only did he bite the dentist’s finger, but he also yanked off the bubblegum mask.
Of course, he would be in that 10%. It seemed inevitable. The dentist assured me he would likely crash when we got home, but that never happened either. Instead, he was like a pinball until he finally fell asleep at 8:30 PM only to wake bright-eyed at 6 AM.
Or was it something more? I had been told last year during some assessments that he exhibited “red flags” for a potential ADHD diagnosis. A part of me believes he’s just a spirited little boy. However, I can’t ignore that at dinner, it’s a challenge to keep him in his seat. There seems to be an invisible string pulling him out of his chair!
Max struggles with waiting his turn and controlling his emotions, especially his anger. He’s always fidgeting, and it’s nearly impossible to keep him focused on one task. Even when I’m directly engaging him, his mind appears to drift off to distant lands. He’s a dreamer, a wanderer. These behaviors may suggest ADHD, and while I recognize the signs, I’m not ready to label him just yet. He has overcome so much, and I don’t want to place him in a box.
For now, I prefer to see it this way: At the dentist, Max made a little mistake. He’s a superhero, after all. Unbeknownst to him, he was supposed to pretend that the medicine worked. He didn’t realize he was showcasing his extraordinary strength, resistance to our feeble sedation, and boundless energy, regardless of what we consider “sleep.” I’m convinced that at night, while we’re all dozing, he is practicing his flying skills. Everything just feels different in the morning.
Perhaps all spirited children are superheroes in training, unaware of how to harness their powers yet. Being part of the 10% might just mean he’s among other heroes. Maybe my little guy is a superhero. Or maybe I’m completely off base.