Aselin

DEEEEEEP BREATHS.......

The saga of orthodontia continues. Yesterday Unnamed Child #3's braces came apart. Even though I myself had 3 years of braces and have three children all wired up I have no idea how these things work. The report came in from kid 3 that wires were sticking out so I figured I had to do something.

Taking them in to the orthodontist we walked in to a deserted office. Two employees sat behind the desk waiting for emergencies to come in. We were ushered back to the operatory immediately and placed in a chair. Cool. I like good service, no waiting and attentive personal attention.

As the young, childless, naive technician started assessing the situation she started explaining what she was going to do. STOOOOOP I mentally pleaded with her. As an experienced parent, I know two things. One, you don't lie to kids. Two, you NEVER give them information about what you are going to do.

Unnamed Child #1 still brags about a tetnus shot she received from a firefighter who chatted with her about her dog and his dog when WHAM!!! the shot was given before she knew what happened. She said that it hurt but her brain didn't have any time to catch up with what was happening until it was all over. Given the option I would vote for that firefighter for President.

So as technician yammers on Unnamed Child #3 starts to go into meltdown. Not a little meltdown. Hyperventilating, dripping tears, kicking of feet, wailing. Stuff I thought was over after we turned five. I restrain said child and start to try and reason. Duh.

Minutes tick by, feeling more like hours. No end was in sight to this ridiculous outburst. I grab the kid by the arms, drag them though the office looking for a private place to "reason", with said kid.

Newfangled offices are not built with enclosed rooms. Every place I looked was a half wall, had a giant open window hole, and all kinds of nonsensical architecture. Finally, I found a normal office and dragged the kid in. Sitting them down I read the riot act. Actually I didn't have to read it, I have the Riot Act memorized. It's somewhat like the Intolerable Acts from the 1700's. Full of hyperbole and linguistic flourish but mostly imposing unreasonable penalty on innocent colonists.

Through the continued screams and wails I threatened to take away all social interaction, extracurricular activities, even the six-year away driver's license opportunity. No response. My blood was boiling, the hysteria was not abating and while there weren't a lot of people in the office, it still felt very public.

Finally, there was a break in the screaming and I was able to successfully bribe the kid to just try and open up their mouth. Reclined in the chair, the kid couldn't pry their hands away from covering their mouth. Through renewed sobs and wails about the possibility of pain I reached my limit. Running my hands through the now tantrum-sweaty hair I pulled back the head while holding the lower jaw in a grip of steel. The kid was so shocked that all they could do was sputter.

Once the wires were all restrung and the bands replaced the kid was given a sticker and set free into the waiting room. I needed a Xantac, or a Xanax - whichever one calms people down.

The technician says to me "That was amazing. You should be a child psychologist." I promise. That's really what she said.

I choked on my own spit and said "Did you just watch the same thing I did?"

"Oh yes, you were amazing. Normally that would have taken way longer."

I suppose she has seen it all, and usually the fearful tantrum does not take place in a deserted office, but really? It was a parenting disaster. I threatened to pry the kid's braces off with my car keys and make them repay the money already invested. The kid knew this was not an idle threat. This was no nurturing moment, empowering the kid to believe in the power of their own self control.

I have not fully expressed my gratitude for the power of bribery payment. Ten minutes later, pulling away from the Sonic drive through the kid was completely blissful sucking down a vanilla shake. Trauma forgotten.

If only I had the same capacity.