Dentists Gone Mild

I went to the dentist this week for the first time in a while. I figured I would be berated for missing my last yearly checkup and then forced to endure a half hour's worth of unbridled pain as the hygienist went to town with her evil hook-pick thing during my "cleaning". Has there ever been a general shape or medical implement that exuded more pure evil than that little metal bastard? I dare say not.

Anyway, I was pleasantly surprised by how nice everyone was at the dentist's office, including a total lack of harsh lecturing. In fact, even the x-rays aren't so bad anymore. I distinctly remember tearing up and gagging every time a small rectangle of the world's sharpest cardboard was hatefully lodged into the back recesses of my mouth in previous visits, but not these days. Then the true turning point came when the hygienist asked if was allergic to anything and I replied, "Only dentist offices", she laughed and I apologized for not coming in regularly and told her it was ok to now proceed to induce tears because of my mouth transgressions. She then shook my foundations by telling offering me numbing gel for my gums, handing me headphones and a remote for the DirecTv above my head, and turning on the massage chair. I didn't feel a thing (other than the soothing massage chair) and watched sports the entire time. What in the...

I know what you're saying, "what the hell does any of this have to do with being an expectant father?". Everything, impatient reader. Everything.

I have been afraid of the dentist for a solid 29 years. Not just afraid, but as soon as you get me in that seat I expect the worst, usually get something even worse than my terrible expectations, and as I moved into adulthood was forced to pay money out of my own pocket for all this fascist torture. The only good thing about my childhood dentist was the free Frogger game in the lobby, which was freaking awesome, but didn't help much once you got pulled back into The Chair. Surely this was at least a partial cause of my ulcers (that, and room fulls of inflated balloons. cringe...). But now there is hope for a new generation of youngins. My boy shall go to this wonderland of dental professionals I have found less than a block from the beach. He will not be afraid, as I was, instead he will glide through a world of gum-numbing gel and DirecTv, with his only concern being whether to set the massage chair to stationary or rolling.

Now if you're like one of my closest friends who shall rename nameless, you would probably think this is all a bunch of horseshit. Why should my kid get off so easy? I will tell you exactly why, it's one less thing I will be forced to bargain, plead, and coerce him into doing in his young life. It not only makes my dentist woes easier now, it will make my parenting experience easier and if I'm lucky I can even surf while he's getting his cleaning. Suck it, parenting!