Riya, at the dentist to have two baby teeth extracted: Do I get to wear sunglasses? Cool shades, dude! The chair is hugging me! What’s that tool for? I don’t think the “sleepy” medicine worked on my teeth yet – I can still feel them! Do you have pictures of my teeth? My shades fell down! It’s all done? Those are my teeth? I want to pick my own prize! Look! Everybody! Two of my teeth are gone!
Me, same time, same place: Riya, sit still. Oh, cool, they can numb it topically? Nope, there’s still a needle coming. OMG, there it is. Oh, please don’t let me faint. Dontfaintdontfaintdontfaintdontfaint. Oh, thank God they’re done with the Novocaine. Riya, SIT DOWN. SIT DOWN!!! Oh, shit, they’re gonna pull them now. Stare at the floor. Dontfaintdontfaintdontfaintdontfaint. Praise Jesus, it’s done.
So, it’s official. I am a bigger wimp than a six-year-old girl. Unless you think I can take credit based on the claim that I prepared her oh so very well? Or that it’s just different when it’s your kid instead of yourself? Because they stuck some pretty big-ass needles in me when I gave birth, and I’d like to state for the record that I never thought I was going to faint.