Poor Izzy. I wonder if he will ever set foot in a dentist's office again. On our first visit everything went extraordinarily well. Beginner's luck I suppose. The dentist entertained him and managed to brush, floss and paint his teeth with fluoride (despite my reluctance to having that toxin spread upon his pearly whites), with not a hint of protest.
So I had no clue as to what would transpire today, other than that Izzy said he didn't want to go. He followed me willingly to the Light Rail so I surmised he would be fine.
Once seated in the chair, things changed rapidly. He reluctantly allowed Dr. X to peer inside and count his teeth. She was even able to prod them a tad, just long enough to find one tiny occlusion. When it was time for her to brush, he protested so vehemently that there was no way she could get inside of his mouth. She mentioned the balloons and goody bags that would await him but he became hysterical, repeating "I don't like what she is doing."
I then suggested that I lie on the dental chair, with him on top. He agreed but once comfortable, still would not open his mouth. When I asked her what she suggested she mentioned "holding him down"..Uh no thanks.. So she and her assistant left the room so I could calm him and negotiate. He had been looking forward to a cannoli so I mentioned that the more quickly he finished, the sooner we would be able to go get one. He pondered that but was not biting and then I suggested that they turn on the DVD player. That too was of interest but didn't have him jumping for joy.
He finally agreed to the brushing and when the dentist returned, he allowed her to do the bottom, before dissolving into sobs. She quickly finished the top and then came time for the fluoride. He begrudgingly allowed her to do that but became increasingly agitated and then sobbed as if something completely horrific had befallen him, crying and shaking uncontrollably. I felt truly awful and wished we had waited until his was six.
And what was the source of all of this misery. THE TASTE. He was begging for water to rinse it away. He was screaming for boobie (though he no longer nurses) probably because he remembered the taste and thought it would rid his mouth of the acrid fluoride flooding his poor palate. After all of of the wonderful things Izzy has eaten, the awful taste must have thrown his taste buds into a tizzy.
In his own words.."Mama, this was not a very fun day. Why did I need to go to the dentist anyway?" Why indeed!
Izzy Eats: The art of raising a gourmand, one bite at a time
Stirring tales of eating, cooking and foraging in my never-ending quest to provide, great-tasting (local and organic whenever possible) EATS for me and my boy(s).