Reason #12,904 Why I Love My Wife

Jill took the girls to the dentist this week (reason #4,057).  Our thirteen-year-olds have adequate, but not exemplary oral care habits (like their dad!).  So, while they don't have meth mouth, they routinely score in the 5-10 range on the dentist's 15 point scale.  A "1" or "2" gets you a sticker, while a "14" or "15" gets you a call to CPS.

The pediatric dental hygienist told my wife that Alexis needed eight "coatings."  I think that's the word she used.  It's not quite a filling, but it's some type of industrial solvent to keep the bad germs from finding a long-term home.  As a child, I remember there being two options - drill and fill, or nothing.  I don't think a magical coating of dental paint was an option from Dr. Krumholz.  So this whole thing sounds a bit like the "under-body rust protection coating" option at a used car dealer.

But let's assume it's a real thing.  The hygienist explained Alexis' need for the magic paint and showed her the cost.  (I can only assume it's made out of gold sparkles and unicorn horns).  Jill gave her approval for the "procedure."

A few minutes later, the hygienist came back to Jill and told her Abby needs four unicorn-infused, gold-dust enhanced magical dental coatings.  She then asked Jill if it was OK to proceed.

My lovely wife responded: "No, just do it for the first kid."

That is the response I wish I had the nerve to say should I have been in that situation.  Which I was not.  See reason #4,057.