Candies and Cavities

Candies

Halloween was, as expected, a high octane affair.  The children awoke early, buzzing with excitement.  I was dreaming of bedtime, when it would all be over.

I took Rory into nursery, where we were greeted by his teacher, aka Wonder Woman, squaring up to a mini Captain America.

 

 

The classmates were in high spirits and bounced around the classroom in their outfits.  My little Buzz Lightyear, however, was less enthusiastic and is pictured below looking long in the face.  Perhaps the choice of costume had been a mistake – I had picked it up for a couple of dollars a few days earlier at a thrift sale.  Rory has never seen the film Toy Story and was bemused by the enthusiastic greetings of To infinity and beyond! delivered by everyone we passed.   

 

 

When the time came to head out into the bright sunshine for the Halloween parade, Buzz Lightyear lost it.  The whole fanfare was all too much and he clung tightly to me like a limpet.  After a lot of tears, he was prised away from my legs and sent off to his class party, which, of course, he loved.

 

 

As I drove home at around 1 o’clock, I had to stop the car to marvel at the latest inhabitant on our street.  Standing at around eight feet tall on its hind legs, with menacing green eyes and snarling yellow teeth was a frighteningly realistic, moving, howling werewolf.

 

 

Inhaling the quickest of lunches (I was running late, but can never miss a meal), I raced over to help set up the Halloween block party, which was being hosted by the other Fiona on the street, also a mother of two boys.  There wasn’t a lot to do other than tape pumpkin tablecloths to a few trestle tables.  I took note of the vast cauldron of candy which Fiona had prepared in readiness for the trick or treaters who’d be descending later.

 

 

Glancing at my watch, I saw that I was late again.  I had missed Barnaby’s Halloween party but could just about make his parade if I hurried.

I couldn’t get close to school in the Jeep – every last street parking spot within half a mile of the school was taken.  There followed a hairy few minutes, during which I had to painstakingly dislodge the car after unwittingly wedging it between two monstrous SUVs.  Frustrated, I then illegally drove the wrong way down the one way street outside school, before illegally parking in the school parking lot.

I passed another latecomer, a dad in a black suit festooned with neon orange pumpkins, then bumped into Elvis.

 

There was the usual eclectic selection of costumes on display.  Inflatables proved to be popular this year, with a blow up panda and a bulky blue man being among the first to arrive.

 

 

The much loved school nurse was resplendent as Piglet, beside a teacher dressed as a Dunkin Donuts worker.

 

 

We were able to recycle last year’s Stormtrooper outfit for Barnaby, which was handy.

 

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Then it was home again for the quickest of turnarounds before the Halloween block party, which was a thoroughly jovial event held in front of the garage of our neighbours’ house.  I had forgotten the extent to which American adults embrace Halloween.  Numerous neighbours had really gone to town with their costumes.

 

 

I have lived opposite Ginger for two years, but spent about 10 minutes looking straight through her, as I had no idea who she was.  She had come as the villainous Disney character Maleficent.  From which movie, I didn’t ask.  Living in America and having two children I should know these things, shouldn’t I?

Adult mummies and rotund pumpkins rubbed shoulders with Minions, cowboys , pirates, sharks, dinosaurs and superheroes.  There was pizza, of course, pumpkin flavoured beer, nachos with dips and a great sense of community.

At 5:30 pm, just as the light was beginning to fade, the parade began.  The children, led by Stormtrooper Barnaby, galloped to our house to begin the long process of confection collection.  Most fathers on the street seemed to have been able to leave work in the middle of the afternoon, allowing families to leave one parent policing the amount of candy the trick or treaters were collecting.  Henry was in a meeting in the city, which left me unsuccessfully attempting to enforce a limit on our doorstep.

 

 

We were going to have hours of trick or treaters descending on us so I didn’t want the lot to vanish instantly.  I did manage to back claw a few treats from the little wide eyed sweetie stalkers, before setting forth around the block for what turned out to be an excellent couple of hours.  The whole concept of trick or treating remains alien to me although even I had to admit that it was a sweet and calm affair, not the out of control horror I had feared.

It was more or less a replica of last year – Barnaby deserted his mother and brother at the earliest opportunity and found his adoptive carers in the form of the Ross family.  Susan and Jeffrey Ross already have three boys, but capably took on a fourth.  Rory and I teamed up with our friend Derek and his daughter Seren, which made the whole jaunt most civilised.

 

 

We were introduced to a few unfamiliar confections including a chocolate bar called Baby Ruth and some unfeasibly large boiled lollipops filled with bubble gum.  Derek and his wife Claire were, very cleverly, I thought, offering glo-sticks and rubber stamps, which seemed to surprise the young candy-cravers.

Later that night, Henry rifled through the boys’ vast sweetie hauls.  He siphoned off a load of sweets, emptying them into what the Americans call zip lock baggies, which I deposited in a donation bin at Barn’s school the following day.  Such a good idea – the children end up with far more treats than they need, so the school sends off packages to US troops serving overseas.

Two days later, Rory went to a chocolate making party at Chocolations, an artisan chocolate factory down the road.  Interesting choice of party venue in Halloween week, I thought, slightly testily.

The children ladled melted chocolate into small trays, before adorning their creations with candy – including those candy corn things.

 

 

When it came to creating a ‘meatball’ cupcake, Rory slightly freaked out.  He didn’t like the idea of this at all.  His buddy Ben, however, embraced the task with gusto.

 

 

Cavities

All this talk of candies brings me on to the subject of cavities.  I took Barnaby to the dentist for a check up the other day, fully expecting my seven year old to be given a clean bill of dental health, but was appalled to be told that he had a cavity.  Many American treats are off limits owing to his fructose intolerance and the liberal use of the horrid high fructose corn syrup in food.  I was genuinely shocked.  The dentist told me that it is not so much candies that are to blame but carbs, which get broken down into sugars that slowly eat into teeth.

A filling was needed.  But on no account would the dentist be doing this herself, she told me.  That unenviable task would be reserved for the pediatric dentist, Dr Chu.

Before the filling could be administered, Barnaby and I were invited to spend an hour and a half at a meet and greet session with Dr Chu.  This seemed rather unnecessary, until it emerged that Dr Chu is something of an expert when it comes to befriending children and carrying out unpleasant procedures without the children having any idea of what it is that he’s doing.

Dr Chu’s practice was stuffed with soft toys with grotesque toothy grins, which visiting children are instructed to clean with giant toothbrushes.

 

 

I completed a detailed questionnaire, most of which seemed to relate to Barnaby’s interests.  Moments later my boy and I were transferred to Dr Chu’s office, which was packed from floor to ceiling with Star Wars, Lego and Minecraft memorabilia.  Barn was impressed.

Dr Chu soothed my horror about the hole by explaining that Barnaby’s molars are tightly packed, which makes it hard to clean between teeth. Apparently I should be flossing his teeth daily and cleaning them for two minutes at a stretch, obviously neither of which I have been doing.  I was told to make no mention to Barnaby of any forthcoming filling, and, after this lengthy meet and greet session, we were sent home.

Two days later, Barnaby couldn’t wait to return to Dr Chu.  We reported to the front desk, where the receptionist was sporting the longest talons I had ever seen.  She had obviously forgotten to remove her Halloween accessories.

 

 

The talons handed over Barnaby’s treatment plan.  All $1000+ of it.  She expressed surprise when I questioned this figure.  Our insurance company would cover a proportion of the treatment, but we would be responsible for the non-negotiable laughing gas and four fillings.  Four?  I had been told he’d need one.  Dr Chu subsequently apologised and said actually that two fillings on two neighbouring molars would be fine.

Are these dentists just trying to make a quick buck? I wondered.  Flashback to my friend Izzy’s first trip to an American dentist last year.  Back in the UK just before moving to the US, Izzy had a filling free mouth, but moved here and was told by a dentist that she needed 11 fillings…

But I have to say a big well done to Dr Chu.  Thanks to some clever distraction techniques including a screening of Star Wars and brushing Barn’s gums while the needle was inserted, Barnaby had no idea that he was having fillings done.

I have since bought an industrial sack of children’s flossers for the boys and might even start on my own teeth soon.