What I really meant to write about today....or.... why it's probably a good thing Natalie is not my youngest child.

On the way to the dentist this morning my five-year-old informed that she was going to go back for her exam by herself. I mean, after all, she IS a big girl now. The way my heart broke when she made that request gave me a glimpse of the future and the way I will feel when she grabs the keys, demands some spending money, and rides off into the sunset with a greasy teenage boy. The situations might be different, the growing up is not.

I was weary of her going back by herself. A couple of weeks ago she had to have a cavity filled (her one and only) and I sat in a chair beside her trying not to cry as they put the bubble gum scented mask on her nose to "relax" her and shot her in the mouth with numb juice. I kept asking her if she was comfortable, if she was nervous at all, if she needed anything. I was trying to put on a brave face for her while at the same time making sure she knew it was okay to be scared. She humored me for a while, telling me she was fine and patting my hand. Then she just got annoyed and informed me in no uncertain terms that she was trying to watch the episode of Sponge Bob that was playing on the TV on the ceiling and could I please just move to the side a bit so she could see.

So I wasn't at all surprised that she wasn't feeling any trepidation about this trip to the dentist. She was actually somewhat bummed when I told her it was just a cleaning and she wouldn't be wearing the funny nose. But I was surprised that she wanted to face it alone. I don't even like going to the dentist alone. I explained to her that if at any time she felt like she needed me with her she was to tell the dentist to come and get me and I would be right there. She humored me again with the hand pat and the head tilt of understanding and then waited for her name to be called. When the dental assistant came out for her I instinctively grabbed my purse and stood up. But she was up and through the door before I even had the chance to move. So I sat back down like the obedient Mama I am and waited.

I love the dentist she goes to. They allow parents to be a part of the procedures, which when researching different offices I realized is not the norm. It is a very open floor plan so when you walk in you can see the main room where the regular cleanings and check-ups occur. Everything is just very inviting and not at all as scary as the pediatric dentist I went to when I was a kid where you were completely separated from your parents the minute you walked into the doors. But, you know, my kid would have probably liked that.

Anyway, while I was out in the waiting room thumbing through an outdated copy of Sports Illustrated I kept standing up to peek back at my child. There she was, laying in the chair with her mouth open wide and her hands sweetly folded on her tummy. She didn't look scared. In fact, she looked down-right comfortable lounging there, watching the TV above her head and having her saliva sucked out with a mini-vacuum. She never asked anyone to come get me.
Finally, when the check-up was complete the receptionist motioned me in. Natalie was already at the appointment counter picking out her toothbrush and prize and telling anyone who would listen about how she didn't really floss all that much. She got a glowing report, on her teeth and her personality. They all gushed about how sweet she was. How polite. What a big girl she was getting to be. I hugged her tight (and she hugged me back because she isn't THAT big yet) and told her how extremely proud I was of her.

As we walked out of the dentist office she exclaimed loudly about how much fun that was. The other mothers looked at me with a mixture of shock and jealousy and I just took her hand and smiled. Because this is my kid. And that won't change no matter how big she gets.