When most people have a cavity, they call their dentist. When I get a cavity I call my brother. That's right, my brother and my dentist are one and the same. True story. Now, having your brother as your dentist is a little... different.
You see, when your sibling is going to be holding a drill in your mouth, you start to reflect back on some of your childhood memories. The ones where your behavior was less than upstanding. Suddenly the thought pops into your mind, "Hmm...maybe this isn't the smartest idea...". Though my brother and I got along well enough, there was one particularly "sticky" situation that always seems to replay in my mind. I will try and recall it as well as I can remember.
When I was probably about 4, making my brother about 8, we liked to jump on my parents bed. One night my mother was sitting atop the bed as we jumped and giggled. This would be just another lovely idyllic memory from my childhood, had it not been for the fact that I also happened to have gum in my mouth. Big League Chew gum to be exact. At some point amid all the fun, I noticed the gum had fallen out. Being 4-years-old and of a particular sort of personality, I took note of the absence and told myself to remember to try and find it once I was done having my fun.
Well, the fun came to an abrupt halt when my mother reached behind her head only to discover a nice, fat, freshly chewed wad of gum embedded in her hair. I imagine some sort of shrieking and panic occured. My dad rushed to the scene, and I braced myself for the impending punishment only to be asked "Whose gum was it?".
Hmmm.....
Whose gum WAS it? Hmmm....
Clearly, I only had two options to pick from and both my brother and I knew the honest answer. But, you see, I had been having a rough week. I had been getting in trouble left and right and my parents just always seemed to be on my tail. Meanwhile, my brother had been his perfect, usual self. It was with that sticking point in mind that my 4-year-old brain determined it would be completely acceptable to let him take the fall. Maybe I shouldn't say "let him" since that infers there was some sort of offer on his part. No such offer was ever made.
So, I said it was his gum. Given the previous weeks behavior, I was pretty sure they would call my bluff, but they didn't. My brother said that it was mine, yet for some odd reason they still believed me. Needless to say, I stuck with my "not guilty" plea.
As my brother was sent to his room (whilst giving me a look of utter exasperation and annoyance) to have a talk with my dad, I sat back and watched my mother put glob after glob of peanut butter in her hair.
Ahhhh, memories.
I did air the truth of this incident eventually, though I waited until enough time had passed for my mothers hair to recover.
Which, I guess, wasn't until college.
Given the gum situation, my brother could really get some due vindication. If he was a lesser sibling, he could make the process of filling my cavities take longer than necessary. If he was a lesser dentist, he could probably deem it justifiable to do so. Luckily, he is neither.
He is an excellent brother and a gifted dentist. He is generous and honest, kind and forgiving. I am very fortunate to call him my brother. And, just as fortunate that he agreed to filling the 3 Jolly Rancher induced cavities that are in my mouth as we speak.
FYI to Parents: Keep your kids off the candy. Or consider a future in dentistry.
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