When we came to Union University, we checked off the box to get dental insurance. During the last year, my wife, Ruth, has faithfully taken herself and the children to regular dental visits. I especially admire the fact that she takes the children, as I imagine they are not especially happy to submit to having their mouths pried open and allowing a lot of poking and scraping. My son is capable of creating dramatic oral fountains in the dental chair as he struggles to figure out that whole “don’t swallow wait to spit” thing.
At various times, Ruth has mentioned that I have not been to the dentist. A few times I indicated I didn’t want to make any decisions at that moment and she accepted it. Then, she tried to press me on times and I said I’d have to get my calendar. I would then count on her forgetting about me getting my calendar. That worked a few times.
Two days ago, she had enough. She asked for a time to go to the dentist. I said I don’t want to go. She stopped for a moment and said, “This is ridiculous. Why do I even ask you? I might as well ask the kids when they want to go to the dentist! You aren’t going to say yes. I’m just going to schedule your appointment.”
My schemes of passive resistance exhausted, I expect to be in the contoured chair soon enough.