teethSo today I finally called the orthodontist to schedule an appointment for Child 3 and the phone call was a continual act of simultaneous translation on my part. First up, I said I was calling to sKedule the appointment. At home I would have said SHedule… well, really I’d probably have said “book”. Then I gave the nice lady my cell (mobile) number and full address with zip (post) code. I had to turn down the first appointment she offered me because we will be on vacation (holiday) and then I had to mangle some dates, remembering to say the month first. This only really matters when I’m saying or writing Child 2’s birthday as it’s January 12th. 12/1 is not same here as 1/12. But I always have to think before I speak.

And of course we couldn’t even show up at the office unless they had pinned down our insurance details. That takes a bit of getting used to and involved more birth dates, social security numbers and so on.

After all that endeavour, I’ve not really spent much time contemplating the reason I am taking her there and the distinct possibility that if we were in the UK, I wouldn’t be booking any such appointments. The probability is that in the UK we wouldn’t be about to have a palatal expander put in our 8 year old’s mouth, or seeing this as the first step in a process towards a shared vision of perfect white teeth. Perhaps that’s why its taken me over a year to actually book the appointment and perhaps I’ll be sorry that I have. But Child 3 has no such qualms. Many (many!) of her friends have already been down the same route (pronounced rout here) and she seems quite excited about the whole idea. When in Rome, I guess…