So, let's talk about my two-year-old...
Last week she had her first dental appointment (don't judge me, I know we should have taken her sooner). She did great when we got there, she stayed close to me in the waiting room, held my hand when we walked, and played calmly as we waited in the exam room. Now, let me back track a bit. A few weeks ago I caved and bought her a harness because she's so fast and she tends to dart off and I am NOT going to be the mother that loses her child. When I put on her cute little ladybug backpack/harness for the appointment I figured I would need to hold on for dear life, but I was wrong. When we got out of the car she held my hand and walked with me without eventually squirming and trying to let go and run in whatever direction she wanted. I was so proud. I didn't need the "leash" so I unclipped it and put it away.
Anyhoo, when the dental hygienist came in she was still doing great and the woman was really good with her. Of course, though, when it came time to brush her teeth she wasn't too thrilled, but she survived (we all did) with minimal damage and she went right back to playing as we waited for the dentist.
So far so good, right?
Well, nobody told me he was gonna be 100 years old, first off, and secondly, even though he was nice and all he wasn't as warm as the hygienist...and neither was his assistant (who was an older lady). It was all business when he came in and that's when all hell broke loose.
He had to examine her mouth again AND he brushed this flouride crap on her teeth. My loving and cute daughter quickly turned into a demon child. Once he was done she threw herself on the floor in a fit of rage, screaming and crying. She wouldn't get up to walk out, so I had to pick her up (against her will) and carry her out as she continued wailing into my ear. Once I got to the front counter to checkout there had been no change, I could not hear the woman telling me about her next appointment. I hurriedly asked for an appointment card and walked out.
The screaming and crying continued as I left the building, walking past other women and children. I can only imagine how I looked to them. I'm 4'11" and my daughter is about half my height and so I look like a child carrying a child. And she kept yelling "no no no no no" - the walk back to the car felt like forever.
What I learned that day was that we have, indeed, entered into the terrible twos. The struggle is real.