The healthy fear of an orthodontist.

I'll start off by saying I adore our orthodontist. He's a guy who's been around the block many times and has perfected his science. It's also a foregon conclusion that when Tyler's braces finally come off (crossing fingers for the next few months) Jackson is a patient in waiting. So I'll rewind to our recent visit to the orthodontist.

Tyler goes in to the office alone. He's old enough and the staff doesn't need me breathing down their necks. While he's in there, I saw a very pale-faced young man emerge. He then approached the front desk and proceeded to try to make an appointment, sans mother (who was not in the waiting room). After several 'Are you sure you can't do it after school' requests he finally agrees he'll have to have his mom call. He then left, clearly worried and jittery.

Tyler then comes out, a little wide eyed and says 'let's go.' I make the follow-up appointment and we head to the car. In the car he debriefs me on his status and then says "Thank God I'm not that other kid." I ask which one. He refers to the tall pale kid. Apparently the kid has challenges with eating the right foods and hygiene... and the usually uber-kind, gentle Dr. P gave him an earful (loud enough for all to hear), stating the next time he is to be seen for broken anything he'll not be fixing anything he'll TAKE THEM OFF. It turns out this kid was in for like his 10th visit for broken ____(brace, bracket, wire, whatever).

I just want to say I dig Dr. P, totally. I swear this guy was trained in teeth and scare tac ops (the advanced training). The good news? My kid swore off any situation that would put him in that chair with that message; either way, he rocks.