Yesterday, I brought the girls for their bi-annual dentist appointment and cleaning.
And we encountered the Right of Passage for All Middle-Class American Children: our dentist handed me the business card of the local orthodontist and recommended that we make an appointment for a consultation for Michaela.
It is the same orthodontist who fixed my woefully crooked teeth, twenty five-plus years ago.
I, too, started when I was eight.
The hygienist who cleaned Jenna's teeth took a good look at her mouth, identified her crossbite, and said, "She's going to need orthodontia, too."
And so it begins.
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Will M be as cooperative as you were? Will she receive the lecture about flossing? Will the ortho look at her chart and say, "hello, Michaela" and not have the foggiest idea who she is? Will she be on the show me wall at the ortho like you were? Will her teeth look as GREAT as yours did and do now? What memories! Will the certain ortho call a certain lady by a certain name? Love, Mommy
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