KIERAN HOWARD: Sweet tooth? It's amazing I don't have more teeth '˜missing in action'
I'm pleased to report our first trip to the dentist went without a hiccup.
Just out of curiosity here, has anyone ever literally had hiccups while at the dentist?
I can only imagine that it must make for an interesting, challenging and rather long check-up?
Anyway, I’m obviously referring to Louie’s introduction to the world of scalers, polishers, mouth mirrors and talented masked professionals who rarely reveal their mouth or nose to their patients – always a little disconcerting if you ask me.
Understandably we were a little anxious before we took the little man along.
You’re never quite sure what to expect when anything new is presented to one so young, particularly when it’s the wonderful world of dentistry.
Louie had previously come with us to an appointment in order to acclimatise him to the slightly surreal experience of teeth examinations, but this was very much the next big step for him.
At the back of my mind there was a slight concern that he may attempt to bite off the dentist’s finger.
Thankfully though, that turned out to be just an irrational parental fear.
He didn’t flinch once throughout, although that may have been more because of his utter confusion at what was going on, rather than his complete acceptance of the situation.
He just sat quietly on my lap, curiously wondering why a stranger was trying to prise open his mouth.
He’s nearly got a full set of teeth now and apparently they’re all coming along nicely.
That’s more than can be said for mine unfortunately.
I’ve got one ‘missing in action’, as my former eccentric dentist liked to term it, and quite a few which can’t be allowed near toffees.
Despite all that, dentists still always remark that ‘you clearly don’t have a sweet tooth’.
That worries me a lot, because it indicates to me that they haven’t got a clue what they’re talking about.
I chuckle to myself each time they come out with it. If only they knew.
If I don’t like sweets, then I don’t know what they think’s led to my multiple fillings over the years.
Kerrie, on the other hand, has never had a filling.
The dentist said that is rare for someone in their 30s.
She’s very proud of the fact and fairly smug too. Rightly so though.
I only hope Louie follows in his mum’s footsteps as far as his final set of gnashers is concerned.
LIKENESS TO SINGERS RUNS IN THE FAMILY
I’m living with a mini Olly Murs, according to Louie’s hairdresser. She compared him to the X-Factor runner-up after his latest trim.
She wasn’t referring to his singing talents, but was commenting on his appearance after she’d finished.
This made me wonder who I would have been likened to at his age.
I wouldn’t be surprised if people used to label me a mini Pavarotti. That would have been down to appearance, rather than my voice. I wasn’t a light toddler, so that would have been the most accurate likeness. The comparison would have certainly been harsher on the late tenor than on me.
As a teenager I remember people saying I looked like Tim Henman, but only while I was playing tennis. It would have been like saying I resembled Damon Hill because I was driving a car.
I don’t know which celebrity Louie will look like as he grows up. Perhaps he’ll be the star to whom others are compared?
Whatever, I’ll ensure I continue to seek the opinion of the hairdresser each time he visits the barber.