Before we had kids, a friend of my husband—a guy who had been married for years and had small children—described the appeal of drinking beer when you’re a parent. He said, “It’s like taking a mini vacation.”
We laugh about that description to this day, knowing that it’s a little too accurate. Sometimes having one glass of wine too many happens on purpose. Of course, you also eventually gain extra pounds—not on purpose. So these days I like to use meditation to change my state. Which is exactly what I tried to get my youngest, Sebastian, to do when he had to get his teeth pulled.
I was warned that sedation could have the opposite effect on children. Though rare, it can make them hyper. Apparently my son is exceptional.
Instead of enjoying a relaxing mini vacation, Sebastian began athletic training. As we waited for the sedative to take effect, he walked around, circling the waiting room.
He placed small toys in various locations around the room to “stand guard.” He placed a small blue guy with a parachute on the receptionist desk. A purple dragon-looking guy sat perched in the corner of a picture frame. He balanced a keychain that featured a pair of dice and the word Reno on the doorknob at the front of the office. And on three separate chairs across from us sat a red, white, and blue race car, a 2-D teddy bear made of flattened beads, and a pocket-sized vintage Game Boy.
Because there were no other patients, and because I thought he’d calm down at any moment, I indulged him for a little while. But 15 minutes later, he was still pacing. Then he began flinging himself onto his chair and sliding to the ground. When I asked him to stop he simply moved to another chair and did the same. And even though he was rubbing his eyes, it was becoming apparent that the medication wasn’t having the intended effect.
I made him collect his toys, firmly sat him next to me, and pulled up the meditation app on my phone. Despite his protests I put the ear buds in his ears and played a six-minute guided meditation intended to calm kids. He was asleep in my lap by minute two.
Fortunately for his future girlfriends to whom I will tell this story and have fun embarrassing Sebastian, his lobby antics wouldn’t be his strangest behavior.
I was asked to wait in the lobby once the dentist began working on his teeth. In the middle of the procedure I was told he needed to use the restroom, and so I helped walk him to the bathroom. He was groggy and a little unstable as I led him by the shoulders, but he talked nonstop.
As we entered the bathroom he said, “I know why people in the olden days wore black and white all the time.” Knowing my son, I quickly picked up on the association with “olden times” and “black and white dress” and realized he was talking about black and white photographs. So I chuckled to myself and urged him to concentrate on the business at hand. Instead, he said, “No, I’ve got to tell Jake and Chase,” as if he had stumbled upon the answer to the mysteries behind Area 51 and had to let his brothers in on the secret.
Wrangling him back into the dentist’s chair I returned to the lobby and my post as worried mom entertaining over-exaggerated fears. I didn’t need any mind altering substance to envision teeth that just wouldn’t budge, the need for an additional procedure, or receiving a monstrous dentist bill. These are the thoughts that fill the heads of anxious moms.
I was called into the room after Sebastian’s surgery. He struggled to sit up and he looked at his hands one at a time. First his right, then his left. “Does anyone else see hot dogs in their hands,” he asked.
Everyone in the room said no.
Sebastian looked at the dental assistant raised one hand and said, “Then you can have one of mine.”
I gently suggested he sit back and rest a moment. At some point, I don’t remember if he asked or was offered, but he was given a mirror to look at his teeth. He held the mirror to his face and abruptly gasped, putting his hand to his mouth.
I saw his reaction, but at that moment I was distracted by some paperwork or something, so it wasn’t until we were back in the car that I asked why he had gasped when he looked in the mirror.
Sebastian was indignant. “Mom, they took out my teeth and replaced them with hot dog teeth!” he said.
“What do you mean, ‘hot dog teeth?’ What is that?” I asked.
“They took out my front teeth and put in little hot dogs for teeth,” he replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
I wasn’t seeing the hot dog teeth but I made a mental note: Next time I want to go on a “mini vacation” I think I’m going to book a dentist appointment.
Shelly Cone will never think of hot dogs in the same way. Contact her at scone@santamariasun.com.
This article appears in Dec 22-29, 2016.