In order to prepare the dudes for the above to take place, they both had to get a little of this.
Yes, dear friends, this is the apparatus through which laughing gas is administered.
And, apparently, in the words of my very eloquent 4 year old, "It was good. Very, very good."
I am curious about why they call it laughing gas (a problem Goggle could undoubtedly solve were I not a lazy sack), because there was no laughing involved.
They were too relaxed to laugh.
Which was exactly what the
Because without "laughing gas", there probably would have been a large amount of puke, and the definite possibility of violence.
As many of you know, #1 has an overactive gag response that makes any type of dental procedures (including noninvasive tooth counting) a walk on the could-soon-be-covered-in-barf-up-to-your-elbows wild side.
And, another largely known fact, #2 has a temper like a wolverine, which is easily ignited by anxiety, embarrassment, or essentially any sort of major discomfort. Which means, the laughing gas was essential to prevent the dentist, his assistant, and any other human beings who sought to interact with Mister Mad (aka #2) while frightened, from losing life or limb. His actions can not generally be trusted when he is overcome by fear, and I was not prepared to face a law suit from the dentist from #2 stabbing him in the throat with the sharpened end of a tooth brush.
So, they masked them, they gassed them, they did their business, and they gave them a toy that shortly ended up under the front seat of my car never to be seen again.
It was, quite possibly, or most uneventful dental visit to date (since previous visits have included me attempting to peel #2 off of my person and cajole his rigor mortised body into the chair)
And, I, awesome mommy that I am, rewarded everyone with a trip to see Harry Potter.
It. Was. Awesome.