...if I only had a nickel for every giggle...

Usually, I like going to the dentist. I really do. The reason? I used to work there. Yes, after high school I decided that rather than going straight to college, I would try and find a job. I found one quickly at my dentist's office, being the "helper". I sterilized instruments, cleaned up and set up rooms for patients, brought patients in, put their little bibs on, gave them magazines, did laundry, developed x-rays, kept the supplies in abundance, and filed many files.

I was happy to have an "adult" job. Pretty much that meant that I was working full time and making some decent money compared to what I had ever made before. I also got really interested in the dental field and considered going into dental assisting. Throughout the years after that, I continued to return to that idea, partly because it was so interesting being in that environment, and partly because I could do the program in 10 months.

But I didn't, and I'm okay with that.

Since my year working there, I've loved going to the dentist. It helps that I've got some good teeth - haven't had a problem since my childhood days when I got 5 (yes, count them) cavities filled at once. They eventually fell out, accompanied by the baby teeth they were filling, and were replaced by good, strong, healthy adult teeth that belonged to someone who decided that that would never happen again.
Every time I go to get a cleaning, the dentist looks at my teeth, grunts, says, "hmmm" and then sits back.

"All these great things we can do in dentistry these days and you don't need any of it. What a pity."

Aw shucks. What a nice guy.

But today was different. Normally I get in there, chat with the hygienist for a little while, and then silence descends as she cleans my teeth over the next hour. Today, I had a lovely, chatty, giggling, pregnant, joy of a hygienist, who told me story after story of her pregnancy and the other pregnant women she knew, giggling away, and JABBING MY GUMS WITH HER INSTRUMENT.

Ow.

I've got some strong gums. I mean, they bleed sometimes, but generally going to the dentist doesn't phase me much. Today, for the first time in my life, I let out a groan of pain amidst her giggles, and actually teared up with one of the jabs.

I don't think she heard me over her laughter.

Don't get me wrong though, she was a great person. We had lovely talks about pregnancy, and how-do-you-know-the-difference-between-one-stroller-and-the-next, and your-labour-was-how-long? We talked about different churches, and as a matter of fact, she and her husband were planning on checking out our previous church in Coquitlam this weekend. Funny coincidence.

But apart from the jabs and the chatter, she left me feeling pretty good. I didn't need any serious tartar drilling, and apart from choosing the WRONG flavour of fluoride, the experience was pretty nice.

But don't EVER choose banana split.

I know, it sounds disgusting, doesn't it? Well, it tastes worse than it sounds.

Another 6 months then. My gums tingle. My teeth shine. All is well in the world.