Honey, We Own You Now.

M was very brave this afternoon at the orthodontist’s appointment.  He did say it was hard to breath as they molded his teeth.  The consultation coordinator told me he was so smart and told such interesting stories: I wonder how they got at his teeth with him talking so much?

As I made the follow up appointment, the receptionist told me, “Oh, you don’t need your checkbook today.”

“Any idea what it will be next time?” I asked.

She leaned conspiratorially across the desk.  “Honey, we own you now.”

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