My Dad’s Father’s Day Present – Pictures Revealed

The problem with having a blog your family reads is that you can’t write funny stories when it’s supposed to be a secret.

Actually, I was laughing and taking pictures of the whole scene (between assisting them, of course). Afterwards, I went inside for some water, and my mom came busting in, hurriedly telling me, “don’t post those pictures yet, he’ll see!” She obviously had the same thought.

Well, now that the cat’s out of the bag, here’s the story behind my dad’s Father’s Day present, which turned out to be as humorous as he is.

I Was Homeschooled

Last week, when I went to the dentist, I had a fun interaction with the guy who did my x-rays. Just to break the silence, he asked me the usual empty questions like “did you get today off in school?” so I replied politely “no,” and that I had graduated already.

“Oh. What school did you go to?”

All my life, I’ve had to mentally and carefully assess my answer to this particular question. There are two ways to go about it: “Citrus Valley Christian Academy,” which is the politically correct answer, but then people want to know where that’s located and blabi-blah. Or, “I’m homeschooled,” which has a 95% success rate of killing any and every would-be conversation, stone dead. It’s really quite magical.

This particular morning I didn’t feel like getting into it, so those two magic words were the ones that came out of my mouth.

He stopped, x-ray-chip-thingy-halfway-to-my-mouth-now-left-suspended-in-air, and looked at me. “What school?”

This is when I knew. We were about to have a moment.

The Dentist

Everyone hates the dentist. I feel bad for dentists because this fact is true. It’s nothing against them as people, of course. It’s just that the general public doesn’t like to be picked and prodded and asked, as full grown adults, whether they’ve flossed and brushed, and why not? etc.

I’m no exception to this. I don’t like the dentist. . For a vast number of reasons, actually. I’ll get into these in a second. But anyway, last week, I had to go for my biannual check-up.

I’m eighteen now, so I have to sign for everything, which is weird. And then of course my mom pays for it, haha.  After signing, I sat in the waiting room a while, until this young looking guy took me back and did my ex-rays. Next, I was put in the chair with my bib and the dentist came in and told me I had a small cavity, needed to get my sealants redone, and have I ever gotten a orthodontist consultation? (All my life, that’s all I’ve ever heard. Since my teeth have grown IN, they’ve been trying to strap metal to them. . It hurts the ego.) I told her politely that I have, so she left, and I started reading People’s magazine.

I quickly got engrossed in the devastating story of Baby Hope, the little girl they found stuffed in a cooler on the side of the road. Somehow, I didn’t realize there was a man sitting in the corner of the room. The man my dentist was saying “number 15 needs a new sealant, 14’s fine” and such. He suddenly spoke up and I almost jumped out of my skin and whacked him with the magazine. I didn’t. But wouldn’t that have made a good story? Haha, just had to share that.

Anyway. He told me that if they had the chance, they’d get my sealants done that day. But it didn’t happen, which is why I was back today. Oh goodie.