Taking my baby to the dentist, and other potential disasters
As one of my specialist skills is putting off things I really should have done yesterday, last week we rocked up to the dental appointment I’d finally got round to booking after they’d sent me the reminder about, ooh, four or so months ago.
Fifteen minutes late, apparently.
“But it was for 10.30…!” I said, faux outraged that the receptionist had killed my ‘getting everyone out of the house on time for once’ vibe. Turns out that no, the appointment was for 10.15 and I’d even marked it correctly in my calendar but somehow read it wrong. I put my outrage apologetically back in my pocket.
So Eliza had her check-up but I had to rebook and took the first available slot, not realising that it was a weekday and a nursery day and there would be no husband or happy pre-schooler available for entertainment duties while I was in the chair. When I got home it hit me; what was I going to do with the baby?
With my second-time mumnesia, I can’t remember what happened when Eliza was this age. I presume I went on a nursery day, or with Alex. But this time? ‘It’ll be fine, she’ll be napping’ I thought breezily. So of course, on the day of the appointment Florence had a freakishly early sleep and was bright eyed and bushy tailed as we set off down the road.
‘I’ll leave her in the pram’ I thought as we arrived and were waved to the first floor waiting room, up a narrow flight of stairs. Oh. So out she came.
First thing she did was take off like a bullet and upturn a display of children’s dental health leaflets, then protested loudly when I took them off her. I hoped there weren’t any dental phobics within earshot or they’d be terrified.
When they finally called us in, she sat angelically with some toys on the floor, until the second I was in the chair when she immediately and mischievously made a break for the door, changing tack at the last minute to make a beeline for all the dangling electrical wires instead. “Arghhhgghh!!” I said, mouth full of dental equipment.
What do people usually do with their babies at the dentist? In the end the dental nurse abandoned my chart and sat entertaining Florence with a big pair of teeth instead. Although, I’m thinking I don’t have to worry that much, as by the time I actually get round to booking my next appointment both girls will be teenagers anyway. At least it took my mind off the actual job in hand this time.