Daily Grind II...

Papí took the boy down to the periodontist for the second half of some extensive deep cleaning. This time the boy did not sleep. Instead, as papí rocked the car seat (see the entry: "Daily Grind...") every now and then the seat lurched.

The boy now wants to sit up. If he is sitting his little head pulls forward, and his mouth stretches his face in a frown of strain. If, at this time, you gently hold his hands out in front of him then he will pull himself up (and over if the momentum holds). It is new to his exercise regimen that he sits at a slight incline, and papí helps him sit up repeatedly.

Each of his exercises go until he starts to squeal. That signals that he is tired out.

Here papí reclined in the dentists' chair, and probed whether baby threw his own weight outward. Because if papí rocked the chair with this imbalance baby could take a jolt when the chair rocks back.

Whenever I felt his weight distributed forward, I simply placed my foot underneath the chair to 'challenge' the boy a bit more. He could stretch forward from a steeper incline and not risk bouncing the back of his head on the chair.

In consequence of papí not being able to rhythmically rock the chair, the boy did not find his dreams there in the office with the loud instruments playing a raucous ditty on papí's jaw.

Many interesting vocalizations arose from the baby during the course of the 45 minutes spent in this position. At times, the singing. Other times he made challenging "huh!" sounds. While I would not call this fussing, it was a lively entertainment of characteristic sounds.

Over time his grunts passed into undirected sing-song. Then he might grow silent for a little time, and papí could feel him straining to sit up. Due to the momentary strain he might sit back and grunt again with an air of frustration. Then a series of little grunts to get himself ready for a new attempt. When the attempts add up, then he would dwell there and content himself to sing-song again.

His frustration clearly only ever directed at the attempts to sit up, his voice never cried out needy. Only the sounds of an intrigue and the focus required to overcome.

During his sounds, the situation required papí to direct his eyes strictly upward. No peaking allowed as the sharp instruments of the Dr scraped papí's numb gums. Papí's gaze only took in the bright light directed into his own mouth, and to the right and left the Dr and his assistant respectively.

The Dr---a man who makes much of his own grandchildren and who shows much interest and patience for papí and the baby---worked diligently on this doubtless difficult task. Papí noted that although he struck up conversation with the assistant about mundane matters---an excellent technique for avoiding the topic of the task at hand---his intention and all his force of concentration leveled upon papí's gaping maw.

Now and then, as we all worked together, the assistant stole a glance at the baby. It did seem that his rambunctious behavior might spill over, though I can say that through the rumble never did one weepy note tinkle out. With babies, you never know. Given that children blow about quickly from one feeling to another when aroused.

Time passed, and each new "huh!" brought new expectations for when a "waaah!" might follow. Even papí became caught up with a certain anticipation regarding the child and his intensive activity, and papí knew better.

There the Dr worked, and as his tools prodded and scraped deeply into papí he stole a glance or two himself. The Dr's skills were such that but for papí seeing the Dr's head swivel about, no change occurred in the technique applied physically to papí.

Even as his tools dwelt deeply and in full contact with papí's mouth the Dr turned his head a quarter turn and more to seek out the boy. Obviously curious about the baby's emotions. But the Dr's hands moved true to their task.

No change in the Dr's contact with the patient, so papí's surprise only registered as if from a far off place. The Dr stole a second's time glancing at the baby, and his work did not miss a beat. Wow. The Dr did it again, and a few minutes later again. Each time no difference in his technique.

When all was done, and the Dr and his assistant cleared out of the room, I took up the boy and gave him a big hug. I stood him on my knee, and he showed his proud smiling face all around. He found a burp, and I wiped him at the corners of his mouth. I put his seat back into the stroller. Home with us, and papí thankful to all, if a bit numb on the left mouth.

Cheers.