Smile, Baby

So the Dad got up this morning, put on his Green Bay Packer sweatshirt, his jeans, and his flipflops and took his son to the dentist.

But wait!  It’s not this little cute guy in the striped shirt and his baby corduroys.

It’s this guy – 26 years old.  Employed full time.  No health insurance. About as likely to have dental insurance as me being in a Broadway musical. With a mouthful of cavities – oh God, don’t get me started – from the evil Mountain Dew which is, in my opinion, the only substance that really ought to be banned in the United States.

Luckily, his Dad, a notoriously aggressive advocate, got his son into the wonderful Marquette University dental program where students will figure out how to make the son’s teeth stay in his mouth and we will pay the tab.

Why?  Hard to explain.  He was the one who drank the Mountain Dew.  But I’m the one who loves his smile.  And there was no other way this problem would get fixed.

It makes me mad.  It does.  Because our son – who works every day, 2nd shift with a lot of overtime, is one of millions who’s never going to get decent health insurance.  He can’t pay out of pocket for dental care.  Really.  Who can do that?

So sure, I guess he should be responsible for his own teeth.  But it’s like my husband said to the dentist the other day on the phone…..”He doesn’t have insurance.  At the moment, he doesn’t have a phone.  He doesn’t have any of that stuff.  He has us.”

Should it be this way?  Oh, I don’t know.  It just is.