For reasons outlined here, it’s taking me a long time to make progress on the next in my series of conversations about breastfeeding. So in the meantime, I thought I’d tell you a little related story.
I wish I had a photo of this, I really do.
Argentina has been my home for 11 years now. The things I love about this country, its inhabitants, and my life here are legion. Yet Argentinians themselves often seem to have a chronically low opinion of Argentina, and strangers are frequently bewildered by my answers to their litany of Where-are-you-from-How-long-have-you-been-here-Why-did-you-come-When-are-you-leaving?
My dentist’s appointment on Friday is a good example of why I’m staying.
I’m in the middle of having replacements done for the crowns on my two front teeth, which I knocked out on a water slide when I was seven (avoid trying this at home, kids. And thank the goddess for modern dentistry else my nickname would still be Fang). The lengthy process involves six dentist appointments, which translates into having to find someone to look after Violeta six times. On Friday, the friend who was going to do the honours cancelled at the last minute so I took Violeta along to the dentist with me.
Not only were the two dentists and two dental nurses in the practice unfazed by this, they all took turns playing with her while I had injections, a pin to hold the crown placed, moulds taken, and temporary crowns fitted. They gave her the bowls and spatulas they use to mix up that mould paste in and she banged around on the floor. They let her pass the dentist the metal mould he needed. They used that air gun hose thing they use to clean out your teeth to blow jets of air on her tummy (much giggling) and then showed her how it worked so she could try it herself. And when she decided she needed a bit of mama time, she climbed up onto my lap and breastfed while the dentist was putting the pin into my tooth. The dentist thought this was hilarious.
I lay there with cotton wool in my mouth and numb gums amazed and grateful that I live in a culture where children are not only tolerated but welcomed, and where as a parent you are made to feel that the creature accompanying you is a source of pleasure and cuteness rather than irritation and mess. (I read a post today about an American family’s visit to Spain that reflects on similar experiences and the values underlying them).
It made what could have been a very stressful appointment into a very memorable one.
And if Violeta grows up to be a dentist, I’ll know why.
