The Brace Race

Another rite of passage is upon us. This is one I had sincerely hoped to avoid, although millions before us have done it and will continue to do it. Logan is getting braces.

His dentist has been telling me for at least three years that Logan would need braces. I have been asking for those same years to wait. He has been patient, telling me we can wait for a while but the time is coming.

The time came. On Logan’s last check up, the dentist said, "Mom, it’s time." I knew this day was coming, but I was sort of hoping for a miracle. It can happen, because it happened to me.

When I was a little younger than Logan, my dentist told my mom I needed braces. It was going to be $2,500, but it could have been $25,000. We didn’t have that kind of money, and it would have been very difficult to come up with it.

My mom looked at my mouth, looked at my dentist, and told him she would pray about it. The dentist laughed at her, and told her when she was finished praying, to bring me back for my braces.

She didn’t have to. My teeth straightened up on their own. I was hoping history would repeat itself, but my prayers apparently need a new set of batteries, or Mom’s have more persuasion. Logan still needs braces.

We started the process a few weeks ago. The dentist put in what they called an appliance. I call it a torture device. The last time Logan’s mouth was in this condition, he was still in a high chair. He needed soft food, regular food needed to be cut in tiny pieces; and for a few days he was drooling like a St. Bernard.

He got better, and then had to go back to get an appliance on the bottom. Lovely. Here we go again. All in all, Logan is coping with it pretty well. In typical Logan fashion, he is finding humor in the situation.

He is making jokes about getting good radio reception, simply by adjusting his ears. All the metal in his mouth could signal aliens where to land. If we fall on hard financial times, we can sell the stuff in his mouth for scrap.

After living with the appliances for about four months, his mouth will shrink even more when he gets braces added to what is already in there. I don’t know where they will find the room, but they say it can be done.

Eventually, the appliances will come out, thankfully, and just the braces will stay on. Supposedly, that is the easy part in all of this. Surely it can’t be worse than all of the stuff that is in there now.
We are starting down the path that millions have blazed before us. I love my dentist, and know he will be there for whatever bumps in the road might come up.

I’m not going to stop praying, either. Just in case. Logan might go in for a checkup and those teeth and his mouth might have aligned perfectly, miraculously, where they are supposed to be. It could happen. But if it doesn’t, we are still going to be okay. As long as the aliens don’t land in our front yard.