Miles’ analysis of my ongoing dental escapades: “Daddy, you have a problem with your teeth.” Me, probing: “Oh! What problem do I have?” “You have bugs in your teeth.” “I do? What kind of bugs?” “You have LADYbugs in your teeth!”
The endodontist was kind enough to send me some printouts from their magical instant-gratification x-ray device. I had asked for JPEGs while at the office, but got the old “we don’t have the internet here.”
Pictured: Roots rising up like marsh reeds through the tooth, into the jaw, making problematic contact with sinuses. Love the graceful arc of that plastic spreader device thingy. Had been feeling increasingly low for weeks, now walking tall.