Dental check up!
For a few days now, Roby our five year old, is asking me when we are going to the salon for a haircut. A week ago I went with Risky, Benny, and Harry. Their hair is growing in the shape of a toilet brush, and it is growing fast. At the end of our street is a small hair salon, with two chairs, three hairdressers, some cupboards, and many electricity cables on the floor from hair dryers etc… When I came in with three children, we had to move sideways to get through the door. One lady got her hair cut, and opposite of her, another lady just got the finishing touch with an overdose of hairspray. After a final quick glance in the mirror, she got up, paid and left, sideways.
Benny hopped in the chair of the hairspray lady, took off his glasses, and was ready for his haircut. Perhaps I should say ‘hair-shave’, because they don’t cut with scissors, but they shave the hair of the boys here, as short as two millimetre. As the razor ran over his head, Benny pulled up his shoulders, and wrinkled his nose. Soon Benny could unwind again, and it was Harry’s turn. Risky was a bit restless from the long wait, and began to explore the tiny barbershop. Now it was my turn to become restless, from nerves, because electricity cables from the razors were all over the floor, and with every step Risky’s feet almost pulled a cord. I just asked Risky to stop pacing, and sit down when it happened… A bang, some smoke, and all electricity off.
The first thing I noticed was Harry’s bewildered face, big, frightened eyes, and a bit of smoke coming out of his razor. So that was the cause! Poor kid! The hairdresser switched on some buttons, and the electricity was on again. It clearly happened more often!
Someone else we visit regularly is the dentist. For annual checkups, for repairs, and for repairing the repairs, in other words, for the search of cavities, for filling the cavities, and going back in case the filling has come out.
Last week I went with Emily, and Martin. Emily sat in the chair first, and was very brave. Every time it hurt, she turned her feet inwards, and the knuckles of her hands turned white, but she kept her mouth wide open, and didn’t make a sound. When Emily’s ordeal came to an end, Martin became more quite, and his smiles disappeared. It was his turn. Martin preferred to sit on my lap, so I climbed into the chair first, feeling relieved I could keep my mouth shut. The big hole in the back of my mouth, which I should have shown to a dentist months ago, reminded me of my own fear. Martin was very brave, didn’t cry, and that yielded them a sticker sheet for each. Perhaps I should overcome my fear, and make an appointment?