I have a new dentist. He is approximately 12 years old.
I didn't go willingly to the new mouth guy. The dentist I have had since I was nine years old retired a few months ago, leaving Doogie Howser in his stead.
I like my old dentist. Moreover, I am comfortable with my old dentist. He has seen me change from kid to young woman to wife to mom to grammy. I am friendly with his wife and though I don't know his sons personally, I know quite a lot about their lives. And he knows quite a lot about my kids' lives.
Dr. Retiree was a volunteer coach for the high school football team. In addition to dentisting my children's teeth, he coached my son on the field.
And then he hung up his drill and called it a day.
I do not savor change.
I did not happily present myself to Dr. Paper Route.
He tried to make small talk. He asked me about my parents and about my husband's health--Parents and Hubby apparently are so okay with being uprooted from their oral moorings that they went in months ago to open wide for Sunny Jim, DDS.
He was trying so hard to be personable that I decided I should probably throw the poor kid a crumb. I mentioned another of his patients, my son, Youngest.
"Oh, yes! Youngest! He's a great guy!" he remarked.
Of course he likes Youngest. They have so much in common--both being 8th graders.
I think they're going snow boarding next weekend. As long as their chores are done.