So after much deliberation (actually many phone calls to dentists, pediatric dentists and my insurance company - no, we don't need health care reform at all do we? Especially since I have a PPO I should go anywhere I damn well want to right?) I brought him in for a check up to make sure there is no root or nerve damage. Have you ever taken a 2 year-old to the dentist? No? Hmm, I'd rather have a root canal without any novocaine. I'd rather gouge my eyes out with a melon baller. I'd rather, well anything worse than those things, would be taking a 2 year-old to the dentist.
First of all, the dentist wasn't so bad. But my kid doesn't know this dude and he's got rubber gloves on and he's jamming his fingers into Jack's mouth, so yeah, that's kind of scary. Then one assistant comes over and holds Jack's head, another one holds down his legs and I hold his arms down. He's basically Hannibal Lecter at this point and since he's too busy screaming and gasping for air to let this guy look at his mouth, they have to take a metal tool, that looks like an object I saw at another doctors office (let's just say men don't every have to use this ever and it normally doesn't go near the north end of your body). So the examining is over. We breathe, we hug, we rock a little (I need it too at this point).
So now to get the sharp edge off they have to file things down. The little tool looks like a dremel with a doll sized nail fine on it. Jack gets back into mummification pose and the scene begins all over. (Can I tell you my dad is in the waiting room and I'm waiting for him to come through the wall and the sizeable screams my kid is wailing out). Okay, quick, painful and now we have to decide if Jack gets a bond to make the tooth look normal, because that particular tooth, the one right in the front, doesn't come out until he's 7 or 8 (I thought 5 or 6 but boys are slower at everything). We are traumatized at this point and considering the hassle we went through to find a pediatric dentist that would take my awesome PPO, I think we will wait until we get our tax refund. So look for more tales of Chip Squints to come.
By the way, the squints part comes from the fact that everytime you ask my kid to smile and show his teeth, his eyes become little slivers blocked by his righteous lashes.