It was bothering her, and hurt to eat on that side. So when I walked into the dentist office to get my tooth fixed yesterday, I asked Grant to take a peek at Jillian's sore spot on her gum and let me know what he thought.
Abscessed tooth. Great… (can you sense the sarcasm?)
I said, “and what do I do
about that?” Suddenly, a look of fear appeared on the hygienist's face as she
tried to find the words to answer my question. Grant quickly broke the silence as he smiled and patted
Jillian’s shoulder, and in his oh-so-gentle demeanor said, “we can fix it, sweetheart.”
He's so great with kids. (#586)
30 minutes later, Jillian climbed out of her chair, slightly trembling at the
thought of what she just experienced, with a look in her eye that said "what just happened to me?" She flexed her courage muscles and was a brave little girl. (#587) As we walked towards the door, Kay
said “Jillian, you’d better let your mom drive home today. I don’t think
you should probably drive this afternoon.” Kay sent us out the door and
on our way with two very crooked smiles and orders to eat soft ice cream for supper. Both
of us. (#588)
We both had crooked smiles, which made the unpleasant experience a
little better because it was shared between the bond of mother and daughter.
Something that was a gift, of sorts . . . That we weren’t alone in our
misery. I knew how she felt, and she knew how I felt. (#589)
Jillian kept saying “dumb” instead of “numb,” which
added a little silliness to the experience Jillian and I shared. Even
this morning, she’s still talking about her “dumb tooth.” And how
the “dentist made her tooth dumb.” Not dumb Jillian. Numb. She was off to school this morning
without the aid of Tylenol or ibuprofen. (#590) All was well, and her focus quickly shifted to the birthday party for Izzy that she'd be attending this afternoon.
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