My Daughter, the Nerd
by Ambertolina
Recently, at the recommendation of our dentist, it became necessary to take the daughter to the orthodontist. This did not surprise me, since the child is virtually my clone and I had to have extensive orthodontia work done. What did surprise me is how orthodontia has come along in the last twenty years.
It looks even more invasive and uncomfortable than when I was a kid.
herbst appliance
Right off the bat, the orthodontist recommended a herbst appliance and a rapid palatal expander. Now the herbst appliance didn’t look too horribly bad—just a couple of weird hinges in the back of the mouth to force my kid’s too-small jaw to grow forward. (Ah, the sweet horrors of youth.)
But the rapid palatal expander? That goddamned thing looks like some sort of bizarre medieval torture device. And, I was
rapid palatal expander
told, it will be MY responsibility (or her father’s of course) to get her to lay still, open her mouth, put a key into said device which is located in the roof of her mouth, and give the key a half turn every day for two weeks so that her palate will … expand.
Shudder.
It was explained to me that the reason that this is possible is that because she’s so young, the bones in the roof of her mouth haven’t fused yet.
Shudder.
Though she was nervous at first, by the time we left her first appointment, she was disappointed that they didn’t actually install any equipment into her mouth, which they had shown us on a cool set of disembodied model teeth.
You see, my little girl isn’t in to princesses and Polly Pockets like her friends. She likes ancient Egypt, and mummies and skeletons and other oddities, which I secretly think is WONDERFUL.
On the way home from the orthodontic appointment, she informed me that in addition to braces, she’d like to also get glasses. I’m pretty sure she wants them only because I have them, and she’s still at that age where she worships me.
“Oh, Honey,” I said. “You don’t want glasses.”
“Yes I do.”
“No you don’t”
“Yes I do.”
“No you don’t,” I insisted.
“Why not?”
“Because … because by the time you’re a teenager, people think it’s kind of … nerdy … to have glasses.”
“So?” she said. “I’m kind of a nerd anyway. Anyway, I’m smart enough to be a nerd. I want to be a nerd.”
“You do?” Even I was caught off guard by what she said next:
“Yes. I want to wear black stretch pants, with a blue shirt and a black tie, and glasses and braces.”
I am so proud.