As in, just when you expect them to zig...
They zag. In the most dramatic, bone-meltingly way possible.
I took Noah and Ezra to the dentist this morning — usually I only attempt one child at a time due to my lack of seventeen arms and super-human strength, but thanks to some scheduling weirdness the boys ended up with back-to-back appointments.
But last time things went pretty well, and everybody knows that things like childhood visits to the dentist always move in a logically linear, upward, it-can-only-get-better-from-here direction. Right?
(AH MAH GAH.)
Monsters. Both of them. Boys, I adore you both and am no big fan of the dentist myself but MY HEAVENLY WORD, you were completely ridiculous today. And are maybe kind of lucky that I did not abandon ship at some point during HOUR TWO of the x-ray protest and leave you there.
There was a Chipotle like, two minutes down the road. Don't think I wasn't tempted.
Ezra, being three-and-three-quarters, basically behaved like he was three-and-three-quarters. Everything was suspicious and he refused to cooperate and kicked and thrashed around while the hygienist calmly completed the cleaning like it was no big deal. Sure, I will willingly stick my fingers in the mouth of this small raging helldemon. Do it all the time, whatever.
Noah. On the other hand. *presses temples with fingers, scrunches eyes into permanent wrinkles*
I think Noah kind of...broke her, a little bit. (And yes, this is a practice that specializes in special needs.) He kind of broke ME. At one point the hygienist excused herself (probably to take a breather, as I assume throttling your patients is probably looked down on in the dentistry field) and I put my head in my hands and sighed.
"Are you sad, Mom?" he asked.
Oh, God, child. I sighed again and admitted that I was a little disappointed in him, and embarrassed over his behavior, even though I really understood that this wasn't fun for him. But he needed to sit and get the x-ray done, and that was all there was to it, and I couldn't change anything about it, and we couldn't leave until he agreed. So please, buddy. PLEASE. JUST LET THEM TAKE THE PICTURE IT WILL TAKE THREE SECONDS I PROMISE.
"NO! I DON'T LIKE YOU." he screamed, and took off down the hall.
(I should note that this was NOT his first-ever dental x-ray, and that the last time he had one done he behaved ABSOLUTELY IMPECCABLY. Because. I. Just.)
Eventually I simply picked him up, sat down in the chair myself, wiggled a protective cape on underneath his protesting, crazy-strong 50-pound body, and locked him in a full-body death grip while the hygienist slapped another cape on him and finally, FINALLY got him to open his mouth and bite down on the film.
But hey! No cavities for either of them! So we're good for another six months. Except for Noah, who has to go back in three for a panoramic x-ray.
(He's got an adult tooth that's refusing to cut through, probably because there's not enough space. Which I had too! Which lead to this story. Which is something you probably DO NOT want to read about and oh God, OH GOD if Noah has to go through what I did I would just like to go ahead and quit life right now. Or scream "NOT IT!" and make Jason take him to the appointment while I weep at a nearby Chipotle,)
"That x-ray isn't nearly so bad," the dentist assured me. "We could do it today but I think...I think we've all had enough for one day."
Speak for yourself, man. Imma take these kids out for extra immunizations and tattoos this afternoon, just for kicks. Maybe after that I'll stick thermometers in their ears while force-feeding them brussels sprouts.
MOTHERHOOD IS SUCH A RUSH SOMETIMES.