To the Dentist's

Another first for the boys that same Wednesday was the dentist. Between thunderclaps, I picked up one and then the other for their first teeth cleaning. Previously I had pointed out the office, and always after that, when we'd drive by it, they'd say in hushed voices to each other, "There is the dentist's office. I don't like that." Apparently some Ukrainian dentists prefer yanking teeth to filling them.

But when we got there, a sweet young lady wearing a bright Southern smile was waiting for them. She coaxed them into the big chair and put them at ease with her kindly drawl. A year ago this girl had chosen a picture of one of their classmates from among my photos of Ukrainian orphans, and had been faithfully praying for her all year.

Because God heard her prayers, a wonderful teenager met the little girl on a missions trip last summer. The teen went home to convince her parents that this girl was to be her sister, and now that couple are planning their trip to Ukraine to adopt her. Hence the boys call their dental hygenist "Yana's penpal".

Yana's Penpal cleaned their teeth gently and efficiently, talking softly all the while explaining to the boys about plaque, flossing and the need to brush the backs of their teeth. James' eyes grew big and he exclaimed, "Ohh, ohh!" when his tongue got sucked into the water vacuun. Peter gave a big 'Hahaha' around the little brush that tickled his gums, making his front teeth pink with flavored tooth paste.

Both boys have decided that, although they don't like tornadoes, the dentist is ok, and they still like America.