Dr. Clown

Yesterday's big adventure was a trip to the dentist. Mark was thrilled about this (not!) and brushed and flossed his teeth for about 20 minutes prior to leaving.

"It won't help!" I yelled to him. "You can't cram for the dentist, you have to do that every day!"

I knew we were in for a long wait upon entering the waiting room. It was packed, with screaming kids running freely in every direction. There was a TV in each corner, but only one DVD worked at a time. While a movie played on one set, the DVD menu played music on the other. And just in case there wasn't enough background noise, the parents in the room were all speaking on their cell phones.

I checked in for Mark's appointment. The office staff scrambled to find his appointment, and I stared at a large sign that read, "An appointment is like a promise. It's meant to be kept."

There was a similar sign in the restroom. But apparently, promises have no time frame. They expected us to show up for our appointment, but they didn't promise to see us in a timely manner.

We waited in the noisy room for 42 minutes. I know this because I planned to leave at the 43 minute mark, but they called Mark in for his x-rays just as I stood to leave.

While Mark was in back, I watched kid after kid come out bloody and crying. The name "gentle dental" was not at all fitting!

Mark returned from the x-ray room with a new oversized pair of plastic vampire fangs. "Wook, Mom!" he drooled. "My teef are weally, weally white."

"They sure are," I agreed. "And very sharp!"

Mark watched T.V. and slurped on his new teeth for another 20 minutes, until I couldn't stand it any longer. I had to get back to work, and I didn't see them calling us any time soon. So I pulled the D card.

I told the receptionist that Mark has diabetes, and needed lunch soon. Both statements were true, though not necessarily related. (He DID need lunch--it was almost 1 o'clock!) But I knew it would get a reaction, and moments later, they whisked Mark off to his teeth cleaning.

Five minutes later, the dentist called me back to discuss Mark's teeth. And this is when the visit got even weirder.

The dentist was dressed in a white shirt, with dogs and cats all over it. He wore a a tie that was equally busy, and a gold toothbrush pinned to his pocket. His glasses were lime-green, and his pants a similar color. The pants had teeth and kids all over them. I couldn't tell if the dentist was wearing his pajamas, or if he was supposed to look like a clown. Either way, I couldn't take my eyes off of him.

He touched my shoulder in an affected manner, and I could almost hear his dentistry teacher telling him, "Make personal contact with the patients." He held up the x-rays of Mark's teeth, but I couldn't take my eyes off his wacky clothes.

"Mark's still got 12 baby teeth," he said, which seemed like a lot to me. "He'll lose them by age 11 or 12, and I told him that because of the recession, the tooth fairy's only leaving a quarter a tooth these days. So he's got three bucks to look forward to."

I stifled a laugh. Not even the tooth fairy was recession-proof!

He kept on talking, but my eyes drifted to another sign above his head, that read, "The tooth fairy dresses Dr. Brown." I looked back at his clothes and realized it had to be true. My opinion of the tooth fairy was rapidly changing.

Finally, the dentist stopped talking and gave me a fistfull of business cards (not sure why -- so I could hand them out to people with too much free time on their hands?). When he finally set us free, the receptionist looked at me expectantly, but I simply walked out. I'd waited 90 minutes for a set of x-rays and a five-minute teeth cleaning -- there was no way in hell I was making a return appointment!

And if she didn't like that...well, she can just talk to the tooth fairy about it!