Dylan after the dentist

I hate the dentist. Well, not the actual dentist. She was alright, I guess. But man, I sure hate going to the dentist. It's awful.

There was a newspaper article up in the dentist's office that says 49% of people would rather go to the dentist than do their taxes.

I am not one of those people.

When it was over, I was trying to explain to Jeff how traumatizing it was. Finally, he said, "At first I thought you were just being dramatic. Now I'm not sure."

"I'm about to cry," was my reply.

And of course today was dentist day for Lil' D as well. He finally had his broken tooth taken out. The last time he had a tooth out, he acted pretty drugged up for the rest of the day. But it was funny, because he still wanted to play. He would slowly walk over to his tennis ball, slowly pick it up, slowly bring it over to me, slowly set it down and then look at me with this drunk little face.

Today, he was pretty okay. He acted totally fine when we picked up him, although he did look a little droopy once we were in the car and settled for the ride home.

I have two fingers. I have four fingers.

Is this real life?

Is this gonna be forever?

He's so cute.

I wasn't supposed to feed him for about an hour in case the drugs made him sick, but he was hungry so he cried for an hour before I finally fed him. It was annoying, but after all the complaining I had done about having my teeth cleaned, I cut him some slack since they had done worse to him.

Although, he got drugs. I told Jeff I thought having your teeth cleaned was grounds enough for laughing gas. But I think it's a good idea I'm not in charge of making those sorts of decisions.