Just a simple trip to the dentist

I had planned our visit to the dentist today at a very strategic time... first thing in the morning. My hope was we wouldn't have to wait long because they couldn't already be running behind. I wanted to finish up quickly and still get Jack to preschool. What I hadn't anticipated is what it would be like to have to get Jack up and get him somewhere on time that early in the morning. The first road block occurred when his "general" shirt (a blue and white striped rugby with a gold emblem on the chest) had not been washed the previous evening as apparently promised by his other mother. Duane negotiated a different striped shirt and got the pants on without too much of a fuss, but then came the infamous shoes and socks. Rarely do we get these pieces of clothing on him without a fight, and this morning was no exception. After extensive negotiations, the cowboy boots that Opa bought were deemed acceptable to all parties involved along with a clause that allowed for the inclusion of a rather tall pair of tube socks, seams adjusted just so.

As fate would have it, this was our first morning of 30-degree weather, so a not-so-simple early morning appointment became even more complicated as we rushed to get a winter coat on Jack. More tears erupted as he tried to get his coat on without crumpling up the sleeves inside. By this point it looked like we were going to be late -- a cardinal sin in my book. I rushed him to the car where he insisted on buckling himself (which I knew he couldn't do) and sure enough, got frustrated and started crying.

Once we finally arrived at the dentist, only 1 minute late somehow, we were all pretty cranky, but I figured he would become much more agreeable. He is usually more compliant for other people, but he continued his reign of grumpiness. After charming the dental tech with his fancy cowboy boots and his astounding knowledge of the animal kingdom, he firmly declined her x-rays. No matter what she tried, he wasn't gonna budge. Once the hygienist came in, he informed her that she was not to use any "spicy" polish on his teeth. She laughed and asked if strawberry would be ok. (I'm not sure she realized who she was up against.) Politely he informed her that would NOT be ok. They finally settled on not using any kind of polish whatsoever on his teeth, and began the procedure. His body tensed up and Jack's fingers spread out and curled up at the first knuckle as if to say, "You're torturing me." After Irene had finished cleaning his bottom teeth, Jack decided he'd had enough. Period. There was absolutely no convincing him otherwise. I even ended up chasing him around the office with grape fluoride foam on my gloved hand only to have him promptly spit it out on me and himself. Fortunately, everyone was very patient and kind to him even when I felt he crossed the line. At one point he looked up at Irene with his arms out, crooked at the elbows, hands cocked and said in a voice that could have come from an 80-year old New Yorker, "And besides, what's takin' so long anyways?"