Yesterday I took my seven year old to the dentist to have a cavity filled. He was in a happy mood on the drive. I did not know if he understood what was coming. When we arrived he lay down as instructed. He looked so fragile, his feet did not reach the part of the chair with the clear plastic, where your toe filled shoes go. He was wearing a bright blue shirt that nearly matched his eyes. He had buttoned the two buttons at the top of the shirt, and told me he wished there was a third button. In a world that can be scary for children, does an extra button make them feel safe?
The dentist put a mask over his nose and told him to breathe in. She worked on his tooth, talking all the while in an attempt to keep him calm. I watched quietly, noticing his small hands and dirty fingernails. He had laid his left hand on his heart, his right hand on his belly. When we are nervous it feels good to put our hands on our bodies for comfort.
After what felt like a long time, she finished. My son picked out a small rubber walrus from the treasure chest. I made a mental note about his choice; walrus’s are of course powerful creatures, carnivores with huge white tusks. When we got to the car he buckled in and then let out tears. He said the tears were about not being allowed to have chewy food for two hours, but I could see that he cried because the ordeal was finally over. It must have been scary, after all, to be in that big chair with a mouth full of sharp metal and a strange gas going into his nose. Now he was in the safety of our little gray cocoon, just him and mom.
I think it’s the same for grownups. We hold ourselves together in our day time lives. We have things to do and people to care for. Then late at night, we undo our two buttons, set aside our tough walrus, and in the safety of our beloveds arms, we let out all our tears.
