The Dentist

Apparently, Bud has my teeth.  And Pop's.  But, luckily today, despite that genetic disadvantage, he got a clean bill of health from the dentist.  No cavities!  We were advised not to give him soda (!) or juice--not even have it in the house, which we actually don't.  He gets juice when we eat out or when he's sick and needs liquids.  That's about it.  Apparently, though, his mouth chemistry is always going to encourage cavities, just like mine.  Today we were all lucky, even though he was nervous the whole visit, remembering the two repairs he had last time (those cracks in the enamel which the dentist said were probably just defects but were turning because of the chemistry, I think is how it went).  Sis picked up on the nervousness and so had some of her own, though she's always had successful dental check-ups.  Worst of all?  Poor Mama, who has to go this afternoon to have her own cavity filled (albeit the first one since childhood).  So, Sis gave Mama one of the stickers in her dental goody bag (which had a toothbrush and paste and floss; they also got a balloon, a water battle, and a toy from the "gumball" machine--talk about over-rewarded).  It's Mama's "be brave" sticker.

Be brave, Mama.