chickenfickle

So, a couple weeks ago, Husband put the kiddos to bed. When he was done, he came downstairs and told me that #2 had a little black spot on his tooth and wanted to know when he was due back at the dentist. I told him they were all going the following week but I would call the dentist in the morning to see if they wanted him in sooner. Okay, that satisfied Husband, end of conversation.

Next morning, I called the dentist. Hello Justine, this is #2’s mom. Husband saw a little black spot on his tooth but he’s due to come in next week. Can he wait or do you want him sooner? Justine told me that as long as it wasn’t bothering him, keep it clean and he could wait. Okay, that satisfied me, end of conversation.

That night, it was my turn to do the bedtime routine. Baby done, girl done, time for #2. I told him I wanted to see the little black spot. Well, I didn’t have to look hard. Why? Because it wasn’t a little black spot, it was a black hole. A giant gaping hole in my son’s tooth. Who would classify this as a black spot? I know who, that BLEEP.

I go downstairs. Husband is on couch with his i-something, watching tv. I sit next to him. I saw that little black spot you mentioned, I say. Oh? he says. Yep, except it’s not a little black spot, you BLEEP. It’s a giant gaping hole! Why didn’t you tell me it was so big? And not a spot, but a hole? He tells me he didn’t know what else to call it. Well, I know what to call you, you BLEEP. I called the dentist and told them it was a spot. Now I have to call them again and tell them it’s a hole. Now, I’m going to sound like a BLEEP.

Next morning, I call the dentist. Hello, Justine, it’s #2’s mom again. Um, seem to have made a small mistake. That little black spot, well, it’s actually a giant gaping hole. What? Bring him in today? Yes, his father will be happy to bring him in. And thanks for not calling me a BLEEP even though I know you are thinking it.

So Husband takes #2 to the dentist. After a half-hour, I call to see what’s happening. I figure that’s plenty of time to fill a cavity. Husband answers and I ask how things are going, did Dr. Pete fill the cavity? Husband says no, he didn’t have a cavity. What? What’s going on? Husband proceeds to tell me that #2, my first-born son, my little man, is being prepped for a root canal. I’m stunned. Can’t speak. But then I let out a bunch of BLEEPs. Apparently, the little black spot was so deep that once the dentist viewed the x-ray, he was afraid he would crack the tooth. So, a pulpotomy was the only way to save his baby tooth. BLEEP. Super BLEEP.

Finally, they arrive home. I grab #2’s head and check his eyes, ears, nose (because that somehow has something to do with a root canal) and then look at this mouth. Are you ok? How do you feel? #2 tells me the dentist put his tooth to sleep, his cheek feels funny and he wants to watch a cartoon. Husband looks at me and says he didn’t flinch at all. The dentist numbed his cheek and gums, then pulled out a giant needle, told him to look at the wall and shot him up with novocaine. Did the procedure and he never said a word. Well, good for him, but I got a couple words I’d like to say. And they all start with BLEEP.

So, let this be a cautionary tale to all you moms out there. When someBLEEP, tells you it’s a little black spot, don’t believe it. Don’t BLEEPin’ believe it.