The Dentist

I don’t see why dentists try and have conversations with you while they are shoving mirrors in your mouth, or perhaps they have training in how to understand what on earth people are trying to say with their jaw propped open. I am also beginning to wonder the age at which they stop saying “You’re doing very well – almost done now” when I am lying down for the first time in nine hours in a more comfortable chair than all our furniture put together. My conversation went something like this:

Dentist: So how old are you?

Me: Ou-een

Dentist: I’m sorry?

Me: Ou-een

Dentist: Seventeen, wow.

Me: ‘O! I ‘aid, ou-een!

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