Five hours of sititng in a car, driving, and then it was time to go collect children from school, husband from home and shop them all off to the dentist of a checkup.
I had mine, kid free (wooo – kid free! wooo … erm, sorry) last week, and has discussions with Dr Dentist regaring the accidental extraction of Chippie’s tooth a few weeks back.
“No,” he tells me, becuase he is The Professional and knows what he is talking about, and I am The Mother and clearly have no idea. “He can’t have knocked that one out, it’s impossible. The dentist at the hospital must have got it wrong.”
And I did a very good job of convincing him that, yes, it was that tooth and, no, the dentist at the hospital can type. Despite