Kids and Dentists: The Unbrushed Tooth

The ideal time for a child's first visit to the dentist, according to the American Academy of Pediatric Dentistry, the American Dental Association and the Academy of General Dentistry, is at approximately one year of age.

Uh, pardon me while I cough up a crown, but if there's one lesson that I've learned in life it is this: There is no "ideal time" for a visit to the dentist. Unless getting teeth pulled is your cup of tea. On my personal scale of things I least like to do, opening my oral cavity to a dentist ranks just below opening my anal cavity for a proctologic exam.

There are, apparently, philosophical differences of opinion in the medical community as to when a child should first see the dentist. I'm not sure what most pediatricians tell parents, but ours told us that it was okay to wait until The Kid turned three before subjecting him to the horrors of the dentist chair.

When faced with competing medical advice, I have found it always best to do what is best for the child. In other words, hold off for as long as you can. Or until you can't stick another lollipop in your child's mouth without feeling the weight of parental guilt.

Parental guilt for us set in just after The Kid turned three.

Ever the dutiful parents, we did our best to prepare The Kid for his date with the dentist chair. That meant reading to him a Dora the Explorer book about a first visit to the dentist – over and over and over again. Dora the Explorer makes a first visit to the dentist seem like a stroll in the park. In Dora's world, all kids leave the dentist with a big smile. Initially, The Kid seemed to take this rosy portrayal hook, line and sinker.

Three-year-olds, though, are so much smarter than the books written for them. The evening before his dental appointment, I first began to sense wariness about his pending date with the dental chair. He wasn't going to be the easy catch going in with mouth wide open as I'd hoped.

We, as parents, had been advised to schedule his appointment at a time when he would be in a good mood, as if there is predictability in a three-year-old's mood. We arrived at nine in the morning, on a Saturday, in an empty parking lot.

The dentist that we chose had come with high marks from our pediatrician. His daughter, just a few months older than The Kid, had just started seeing this particular dentist. As it turns out, the pediatrician and the dentist share the same building. We, as parents, thought this might be a good thing and make The Kid a little bit more comfortable. We couldn't have been more wrong.

To get to the dentist's office, you have to walk down a dark stairwell. In the eyes and mind of The Kid, I'm pretty sure that we were walking down into a dungeon. The dentist's office, it turns out, is underground, buried below his pediatrician's office. For three years we've been going to the same pediatrician without knowing what went on below, or even that there was a below.

Pediatric dentists today are much more sensitive to the fears of children than when I was growing up, way back in the dark ages, when the dentist would pretty much throw you in the chair and start yanking out your teeth. The modern dentist, in contrast, uses the first few visits to socialize children into the dental setting. These so-called "happy visits" are designed to make a visit to the dentist not seem so daunting for kids and are tailored to the child's level of maturity and self-confidence.

This all sounds nice and progressive in theory, but as with so many things, reality rears its ugly head, which is what I was expecting on top of the dentist. To my surprise, this dentist looked more like a fairytale princess than an old witch. The Kid, however, saw right through her outward charms. Upon seeing her, he backed away, as if he'd just seen the face of a monster. The crocodile puppet with the oversized teeth that she wore on one of her hands was a dental prop intended to make her seem more friendly but only seemed to frighten him more.

For about five minutes, like a mob collector, I struggled and bargained with The Kid in the lobby outside the dentist office, but not even a promise whispered in his ear that there would be a trip to the toy store if he would just go in and sit down in the dentist chair calmed him. Then Mommy made the inevitable sacrifice, lassoing him and putting herself in the dentist chair and The Kid in her lap. While Mommy buckled him in with her arms, Daddy brushed the teeth of the crocodile puppet before moving on to the teeth of The Kid. If the dentist was building up trust with The Kid, that all went down the spit bowl when she asked him to open his mouth so that she could count his teeth. It turns out that The Kid takes after The Father and doesn't like opening his oral cavity to dentists. Frustration evident in her eyes, the dentist literally took matters into her pink plastic gloved hands, forced his mouth open and counted all twenty teeth while The Kid put up a fight that made The Father proud.

When it was all over, the dentist gave The Kid one of her pink plastic gloves, which she had inflated with an air squirter, and a clean bill of oral health. The Parents, meanwhile, got their parental guilt rinsed clean and a bill for $40.

Comments

[Mommy]

I did not mention to you that while you were mob-collecting in the lobby, the dentist whispered to me that the option to not sit in the chair or my lap should not be offered so The Kid would not get the idea that the dentist visit is optional.