"I don't want to go to the dentist."
"I don't like it."
Mr. O shakes his head and grins, and tells me I'm acting like a child.
Appointment day isn't always easy for me.
Can I honestly say I look forward to sitting in a chair, feeling so utterly powerless and anxious? Staring up at the clock, the television, and the ceiling, mumbling as the dentist and his assistant ask if I'm okay.
Thinking what the heck am I doing here!
There's a tray beside me, spread out with unfamiliar tools. Oh dear.
I can't exactly see what's going on, and that makes me nervous.
Who enjoys going to the dentist anyways?
My son feels the same way as I do. And he had his teeth extracted seven times!
What a brave one!
It's the calm before the storm.
Which is worse?
The winter storm heading our way this evening, or the trip to the dentist?