I've always been a bit rubbish at going to the dentist. It must have been about 5-6 years since I last went (my old dentist gave me the push because I didn't book an apt every 6 months). Mark found us a new NHS one a while back. I was supposed to be going the day my car got trashed, and we finally got in yesterday.
It was Mark's 2nd apt and he had his broken tooth taken out. It was mine and Jack's 1st. My teeth are ok, had a bit of a scrape and the nice lady dentist said she's take out the wisdom tooth that is growing sideways into my cheek so long as I can wait until after the baby is born. She had a look at Jack's teeth and saw no problems - so it looks like we're taking good care of them! She gave the usual advice about not letting him have sweets, and not giving him milk or jucie to take to bed just water (although Jack sleeps through now and has no drinks after having his teeth brushed until morning).
Jack was a big brave boy, even if he didn't like having the mirror in his mouth, and was given a sticker to say so. I'm very proud of BOTH my fellers (esp since poor Mark had to chomp down on a bit of cotton for 2 hours after his extraction and missed the Special Treat For Being Brave McDonalds Lunch that me and Jack shared).