Skip to main content

Brace Yourself

October 26th, 2016

Dear Todd,

I'm thinking of going back to school. Seeking a Master's in Counting Cards. I figure it's gotta be a two year program at most, and then I can go straight to Vegas and apply my degree.

Where this sudden interest in such a degree you may ask? Well, I spent today at the Orthodontist---as most people tend to do on a sunny, fall Wednesday. And as you may remember we have not one, not two, but 3 children. Three children with f'd up teeth to be exact. Don't get me wrong, the x-rays were a solid source of entertainment, but not quite worth the price of admission. Basically, we could either have 2 tickets (down behind homeplate) to the World Series, or save our children's teeth.


What I learned today at the Ortho 
by Robin Faris

Our youngest is half shark. Shocker.  Almost all of his adult teeth are pushing down in the wrong direction on top of his babies. Now, I'm thinking, 'down' is the right direction. But apparently they have designated spots and, according to the x-ray, these little buggers failed musical chairs.

Our middle, has a wisdom tooth where her 12yr molar is supposed to be. Good news is, she has no 12 year molar, and no other wisdom teeth, so...we'll just let her tooth, aka "Frankie" after Frank Abagnale Jr. pretend he's a molar. But in the meantime, her bite is all off to the side, and her top teeth are pushing out, and her bottom jaw line is withdrawn and she is certain to be mistaken for Joseph (John) Merrick's long, lost child if we don't act now.

Our eldest needs his upper pallet widened and the bottom is getting crowded, and the top is a little ahead of itself--much like he is sometimes.

So....yeah.

All I know is that once this is all done, they better f'n smile all the f'n time. All. The. Time.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Our naked boy is a GMO

October 24th, 2016 Dear Todd, I'm not really sure where to start.  The headline on this one sort of sums up my Monday.  And as I make dinner right now, we still have a half-dressed 9 yr old who opts to "thrust" from time to time because his pants are off which, and I quote, "Makes me feel like a man." I'm in over my head. Out over my ski's. And any other bad metaphor for "screwed without a solution." It's that time in a working person's day when you "clock out." You shut down the computer, you decide to face the world again in the morning with a warm cup of coffee.  But he's still walking around. Half dressed. Now weilding a knife, cuz he's making his lunch. But, for your reference let's get back to the removal of the pants. All of our kids had fabulous plans with friends after school today.  Upon picking up our eldest and dropping off our youngest's friend (all possible at one house as they are broth...

This Bud's for you

December 14th, 2016 Dear Todd, We went to see the Budweiser Clydesdales yesterday.  It was cool. They are seriously large horses--like Tyranahorses. Pretty sure that's what they're called. Pretty sure. And if I call them that enough, it will stick and they will be known as the Budweiser Tyranahorse, because we are living in a world where we can say whatever the f**k we want and not only will there be no consequence, but the word will be added to Webster's top Fab Five Fictious Phenomenons. But I digress... So we saw the horses. And as we were making our way back past them for the second time--aka "our farewell tour"--practicing our parade waves---one of our children shrieked and proceeded to shame Eric, the Clydesdale.  It would appear that Eric was giving me yet another teaching moment wherein I could explain the origin and meaning of the expression, "Hung like a horse." And so, I'd like to say, "Thank you, Eric. I really don't...

Story Problems

October 4th, 2016 Dear Todd, As the household proclaimed "linear thinker," I have a math problem for you. Or the world's longest run-on sentence... If a woman is awoken at 5:15am by a nightmare of a toxic/sewage smelling snake sliding up the side of her body rapidly encroaching on her breathing, and slowly opens her eyes to look around so as not to startle the snake, only to find that the snake is a pair of size 4 male feet and the toxcitiy is coming from the 70lb farting dog in the bed and thus she slides out discreetly thumping onto the floor and army crawling downstairs as to not disturb anyone else in an attempt to have a cup of coffee by herself only to be followed by the farting dog that proceeds to vomit a 32inch diameter puddle on the living room rug, waking the size 4 feet that rapidly descend to request a peach for breakfast. The sound of the youngest running down the stairs wakes the oldest (who has never woken up on his own before 7am unless it was a Sun...