Marlo wandered into my office and climbed onto my lap as I was importing this photo from the memory card. She clapped her hands and said, “He’sth dressthed up like the dentistht!”
Oddly, the only time Marlo has been to the dentist was a few weeks after she chipped her front tooth. But now she associates anyone getting sick and anything to do with doctors with DENTIST. If Leta has a stomach ache, she needs to go to the dentist. If I stub my toe, I should head to the dentist.
One afternoon last week Chuck threw up something he had eaten in the yard and Marlo shook her head. “You have to take him to the dentistht, Mom.”
I should probably correct her but wouldn’t that be so fucking sad?