So today, I took Tootie into the dentist so that he could replace a cap that had fallen off a molar.
Once there, however, he decided it was better just to pull the tooth since her permanent one is on its way in. Also, he said, a second cap would likely fall off too.
My childhood dentist experience:
I was allowed to lose maybe two or three baby teeth on my own. The rest were pulled by the dentist, before they were even loose. The usual scene involved my dentist walking in with a shot and a pair of pliers, which promptly elicited screams and flailing on my part.
Hello, panic attack.
Thankfully, Tootie goes to a wonderful dentist who has equally wonderful assistants. Oh, AND they use gas. My entire dental life would be different if my childhood dentist would have just given me a little nitrous. I curse him. Pah.
Anyway, Tootie did great. There wasn’t even a whimper as the offending molar came out, roots and all. And her mommy managed not to crawl into a corner and tuck herself into a fetal position while hyperventilating.
I figure the Tooth Fairy owes a little more than usual tonight.