Today, we had a not-so-successful first trip to the dentist. Logan was afraid and didn't want to open his mouth. Finally, he let the dentist take a quick peek.
Prior to the visit, we talked extensively about what it would be like and read a book to him about the subject. But he was still scared and agreed to stay in the chair only if he could sit on my lap.
I remember feeling the same way when I made my first trip to the dentist; I guess I was about four. They didn't allow parents back in the treatment room back then, so I screamed and cried as the hygenist pried me away from my mom, hauled me down a hallway and wrestled me into the chair.
The inside of that office was decorated in a cheerful tropical theme, but to me, even the smiling toucans looked scary. After several attempts to calm me down, the frustrated dentist said he'd spank me if I didn't knock it off. That did the trick.
During today's visit with Logan's dentist, I thought about the kinder, more gentle approach we now take to child-rearing. Then, the dentist told me it was time to start flossing his teeth each night.
The dentist told me Logan probably won't cooperate. If he doesn't, I should pin him down with my knees on his arms so he can't flail around. With one hand, I should grab his head and hold it steady. He'll likely be screaming, but that will work to my advantage; I'll then have full access to his teeth, the dentist said.
Sounds like a job for Papa.