Poor little Dylan had to be sedated for some dental work earlier this week. This meant that he had to fast. His appointment wasn't until 12:30. He was allowed water or juice up until 8:30, but after that he couldn't have anything at all. So, so rude. Here's a sampling of what that morning was like:-- Mom, could I Puh-LEAZE have something? Anything?
--No, sweetie, I'm sorry. If you eat something, it'll make you sick when you go to the dentist.
--Oh, yeah? Well, if I don't get something to eat RIGHT NOW I'm gonna die. Would you rather I was sick or would you rather I die?
--You're not gonna die, sweetie.
--Yes, I will. I'm gonna count down from 10. When I'm done, that's it. I'm dead, unless you let me eat. 10, 9, 8,7-
--Wait, wait, wait. Can I have your DS when you're gone? (I know, so mean)
--No. Nobody gets to touch any of my stuff. I want you to keep my bedroom door closed and just look at it sadly as you walk by.
Of course, you all know me. I can't make it five minutes without eating something. I was hiding in the pantry wolfing down some potato chips. I'm a closet junkie.
12:30 couldn't get here soon enough. He did great at the dentist. He had to get one tooth pulled, (amongst other things) which he put under his pillow for the tooth fairy. She left him $5, which I have insisted means that she simply prepaid for ALL of his baby teeth, not just that one.
