Coffee Break: Super Friends and the Dentist

To all the moms out there with multiple kids… WHO was the brave soul that once said, “Just bring all your kids—it’s no big deal”? I just want to talk. 😂

So today, I had to take my oldest to the dentist. Not for anything glamorous—just part of the physical paperwork she needs for school. And of course, there was no rescheduling because, you know, school deadlines wait for no mom.

Now, here's the kicker: I’ve got four kids. Four. And two of them are in that magical stage of life known as toddlerhood. There was no babysitter, no saintly grandparent, no unicorn of a neighbor available to help today. Everyone I know has a job—as they should—but man, today I was flying solo with the whole crew.

We walk into the dental office, and instantly it's like I stepped into a sacred library. DEAD. SILENCE. Not a whisper. Eight people already sitting in the waiting room, and then… us. We didn’t just enter the room—we stormed it like a traveling circus. You could practically hear the spotlight clicking on as I walked in with my tiny tribe.

My angry mini-human immediately screamed, “STOP!” because her sister had the audacity to look at her. Meanwhile, my wildly energetic little guy is sprinting in circles yelling, “SUPER FRIENDS!!” Not Superman. Not Batman. Just… Super Friends. Oh, and did I mention he’s in pajamas with a cape? A literal cape.

I’m standing there trying to hold it together, thinking, “Do none of you have kids? Like, ever?” I know I can’t be the only mom whose kids turn the volume to max in public. But today? Today was my starring role in a sitcom I didn’t audition for.

Finally, we’re called back. At this point, it feels like an entire season of Grey’s Anatomy: The Toddler Years has already played out in that waiting room. We get into the exam room and of course, my little superhero decides the dentist chair is actually his launch pad. I wrangle him back into the double stroller. I turn to speak with the hygienist, and boom—he’s out again like Houdini.

He proceeds to bombard the poor hygienist with 1,000 rapid-fire questions. God bless her, she laughs and takes it in stride. I guess we were the entertainment today—blessing people with both our presence and our volume.

My grumpy little one? She’s now giggling and dancing to Dora the Explorer thanks to a phone and divine intervention.

Then the conversation takes a turn. The hygienist explains she’s cleaning big sister’s teeth so they stay healthy. My son chimes in loudly, “I don’t like brushing my teeff. Feels funny.” Without missing a beat, the hygienist smiles and says, “Well, superheroes brush their teeth.”

His response? Stone-cold serious face: “We are NOT super friends. Super friends don’t brush their teeff. The Hulk smashes them.”

If there were an award for parenting glory, I was definitely in the running—right before I tried to disappear into the dental chair. Thankfully, the hygienist burst into laughter. So did everyone nearby.

Well. That laugh fueled my child like rocket fuel. Before I could blink, he bolted down the hallway, yelling, “HI SUPER FRIENDS!!” at the top of his lungs.

So yes. That was just one hour of my beautiful, chaotic, laugh-or-cry day.

By the grace of God… we survived. Barely. But we did.

Now I need:

1. A nap

2. A gallon of coffee

3. And for the love of all things good—NO MORE HULK SMASHES.