My gas tank is empty and yet we have a few miles to go before school is finally out for the summer next Wednesday. (My son was out of school a week or so ago.) My daughter has half-days this week and other than a presentation tomorrow afternoon, she’s pretty much done in terms of productivity. (Next week: a field trip to see a movie in the movie theater down the road . . . the next day, a beach day. This week: lots of yearbook passing for signatures, plenty of party-planing for the summer, etc.)
Fortunately, she’s distracted by the presentation and hasn’t been able to obsess and worry about the fact that she’s having a front tooth pulled tomorrow as part of her orthodontic treatment. This is a girl who burst into tears when she got a vaccination recently, so I can only imagine the histrionics that will accompany the actual needle in her gums tomorrow. (It’s a small tooth, smaller than normal and I’m told it will ‘slip out’ but I don’t really and truly believe anything a dentist says, no offense if you’re a dentist.)
(I’m not a big fan of the dentist so I’m trying to keep this underlying dread I have to myself.)
I will be glad when the whole thing is over. And by “thing,” I mean the dental appointment.
I will also be glad when school is over.
Her summer break will end on August 24 and if I know my time-travel, August 24 will arrive in approximately six days. I don’t know how it happens, I don’t know why, but I do know that time ticks quicker the older I get and summer-time ticks away the quickest of all.
Actual Unretouched Photo 
She might not want it now, but be sure to take pictures before the dentist visit. Then, one afterward. Before and after shots are good – by shots, I mean pictures!
Hope you didn’t get your dread over dentists from your mother. But you could have – I have hated (figuratively speaking only) going to the dentist since I was just a little girl and the dentist we had was horrible; a man who drank while on the job, got mad at my mother because she heard me crying and came into the room to rescue me – – – I have blamed him for my fear and distrust – and disgust, actually – all these years. Sorry if I passed that along. (But there isn’t much worse than having to go to a dentist.)
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