I’ve made it through four children and ten years of motherhood without anyone getting a cavity.
At the kids’ check-up, the dentist informed me that Joseph has four–count ’em FOUR–cavities. While I tried to shrivel up and melt into the floor, he explained to me his unscientific observation that the third child in the family is almost always the one with the most cavities. He said he sees it all the time, though he can’t really explain why.
Oh, really? Because I can TOTALLY tell you why.
Child number three is the one where the wheels start coming off, and pesky little details like oral hygiene take a backseat to things like making sure the baby didn’t get left at the grocery store. In fact, when it comes to managing a family, I’ve long held the belief that if you’re going to have three children you might as well have eight. This not a theory I intend to test, mind you, but those of you who have feel free to chime in.
In good dental news, as we left Stephen overheard me making an appointment for sealants for some of his molars. He gleefully punched the air and shouted, "YESSSS!"
"What?" I asked him.
"I have MOLARS!" he crowed. I looked at him curiously.
"I don’t know what they are," he said, "but they sound awfully cool."
Yes, m’dear, they are. So please brush them. Because at this rate we’ll be buying the dentist a house on the beach before it’s all over.