We Lost Your Mother

I had to go to the orthodontist yesterday and I took my 88 year old Mom along. She goes everywhere I go. Even to the orthodontist. And she patiently waits in the reception area will I get new wires. And rubber bands to pull my lower jaw back six inches or so.

Apparently its not aligned properly. (My jaw, not my Mom)

Its been six months of sore mouth and five hours a day of brushing, flossing and picking out left overs. Have you ever counted how many spinach leaves get stuck between your gum and cheeks? I could write a book.

After this visit I now have rubber bands. The technician said, "You can change them every four hours."

I said, "Every what?"

She said, "You don't have to get up at night, of course. Just while you're awake. They lose their elasticity, you know."

So while I'm getting trained in the finer arts of rubber band changing, the secretary runs into the room and informs us that they've lost my mother. They searched the parking lot. The other dental offices. The bathrooms. The elevator. She was nowhere to be found. Until, of course, they searched in the far corners of the reception area where a jar of red jelly beans sat atop an obscure table with a sign awarding $100 dollars for the best guess.

When I asked her where she'd been all this time she said, "I was counting."

Her guess: 2,056