The first time we took #2 to the dentist, he screamed bloody murder and nearly bit fingers off of both the hygienist and the dentist.
The second time, he cried and thrashed until we had to put him in a dental straightjacket so we could be sure his teeth weren’t suffering too badly from his inattentive brushing habits and overfondness for milk.
The third time? Was the charm. He bounced around the room a bit, reluctant to get in the chair, but then he settled down and let them clean and examine his teeth. He even submitted to having a fluoride treatment painted on his choppers.
He was delighted to get his choice of new toothbrushes (his current favorite color is green), and also got a whistle from the toy vending machine by the door.
So proud of my little guy.
Perhaps soon he’ll let me trim his nails while he’s awake? A mama can dream.