If I were a kinder person, I would schedule individual dental appointments for each kid. But instead, I think merely on a functional level. So, I set up all 3 one right after another. I do this every summer. You would think by now that the dental office would have clued in to the mayhem we bring with us. To date, they have yet to ban us from ever entering. But let it be noted, I think they're close.
Yesterday we trailed in through the doors. I stood at the front desk and the sweet, unsuspecting girl in scrubs said, "Wow. They just keep coming." Apparently my girls all look alike. I don't see it, but when they're all bunched together I get lots of comments. I leaned in close to scrub girl, "You have no idea. Things are about to get interesting."
Within nanoseconds, #2 and #3 started fighting over who was dumber. Obviously I could have cleared the issue right up, right quick. But why? The TV wasn't working, so I just let them have at it.
Once the first child was taken to the back, the others simply decided to follow. I trailed behind super, duper slow. Like, turtle slow. I stopped and looked at every single picture hanging on the walls. Because, really? That many Fosters in a cubicle? Totally not good.
By the time I forced myself to join them, #1 was being examined, while #2 and #3 were opening ALL the drawers within reach. They. Touched. Everything. Oh, the questions they threw upon that poor hygienist. Once they got bored with Sam's teeth x-rays, they tried to get her to show them scans from other patients. Apparently that's a no-no.
Child #3 loudly proclaimed she hadn't taken her pills that day. That cleared up quite a few things real fast.
Teenagers #1 and #2 had a smack down/drag out over who had the better ring. One was wearing a real, for legit, silver ring. The other was wearing a plastic dinosaur ring she discovered in the toddler treasure drawer.
All on their own, they discovered that the hygienist is moving to Florida. They asked her, for serious, if they could come stay with her so she could take them to DisneyWorld.
The Favorite Baby Child kept blowing up gloves into cow utters while she paced in and out of the cubicle. All while passing The Oldest Child who was concentrating on playing a game on my phone that the twins play. Who are 5. When anyone got marginally close to her, she would scream, "Don't bump me!"
Oh, and the dentist (Whose a big fella. Like, works-at-the-gym-and-drinks-protein-shakes kind of big.) gave the 2 youngest a lecture on being nice to one another. As soon as he left the room they started giggling. Uh huh.
And the best part of this whole suicide mission? Child #1, who is an AP student, the one who will be a senior in a few months, the one I'm betting Vegas odds on getting out of this house alive, decided to tell me this:
"Mom. You know that new girl at church who I've become friends with?"
"You know how I told you her parents are really busy because they are substitute firefighters?"
"Well, it turns out they actually just work at a sandwich shop. It's called Firehouse Subs."
I just squinted my eyes real hard and stared at her while I thought, "Well, crud. She's the smartest one I've got. There goes that pipe dream."
And after that, I took them clothes shopping at Old Navy.
I'm not even going to talk about what went on there. If I do, I'll probably start to hiccup/cry/sob all at the same time.
Oh, and just so you know. No cavities. At all.
Which, I'm pretty sure was a lie. The dentist just didn't want us coming back.