New Teeth!

My name is J, and these are my old teeth. The top ones were rotten from my life in the Philippines. My big sister let me go to sleep with a bottle when I was a baby, and the sisters at the orphanage did this too. They didn't know any better, but that rots your teeth. When I came to America, to my new home, Mommy took me to the dentist. I don't like the dentist-not at all-but he said he needed to give me new teeth so that I could eat and talk better.

Here's me with my new teeth! These don't chip away, and I can eat better, and I speak better in speech therapy. They're nicer than the ones Mommy thought I was going to get because the dentist only had to use enamel instead of caps. He realized this after he gave me some medicine and tied me down on a papoose board and started scrapping away at my brown teeth. I didn't like that one bit! Mommy doesn't like it either; she told Daddy that if she went to the dentist with me she'd cry and that would scare me. So Daddy got to go with me! He was very patient-even after I screamed and screamed (for four hours!). Daddy was there in the operating room to hold my hand, and he gave me ice-cream when it was all over. Mommy still cried though-when I smiled at her when I came home with my new teeth-but she said it was a happy cry, so that's OK. I sure love Daddy, and I like my new teeth!