Oliver is having dental surgery tomorrow. Genetics, playing a mean game of selecting the bad genes, chose to give him my teeth. He needs crowns (stainless steel!) on his baby teeth, possibly extractions, fillings… the whole gamut. They’re giving him general anesthesia.
I’m stressing. I will be with him when they put him under, and will be there when he wakes up. And I will be pacing the floors in between. I’m bringing his Panda Bear, and everything is all set to go.
But he’s my baby. And I’m scared.