The Story of "Finishing Touches by Mom" and the "Good Teeth Badge"

"Finishing Touches by Mom"
My mother would often hum songs from children's TV shows while brushing my teeth on her lap.
During my childhood, "Take care of your teeth, at the very least." was my mother's catchphrase.

"If you don't brush your teeth properly, you'll get cavities and holes in them."
"Don't come crying to me when you have dentures in the future."
Every day, I brushed my teeth while being half-threatened by my mother. And just when I was about finished, she would have me lay my head on her lap to give my teeth the finishing touches.

My mother had many cavities that required root canals and silver fillings, so she probably didn't want her child to suffer the same fate. Fortunately, thanks to her, I never had a single cavity.


However, before I knew it, I began to find my mother's kindness bothersome.
Around the second grade of elementary school, I started to feel embarrassed about having my teeth brushed on my mother's lap. I assumed my classmates weren't having their parents do that for them.

So, I stubbornly refused the "finishing touches by Mom" and decided to brush my teeth by myself from then on. It was a small step toward independence.

And the results of that independence appeared quickly.
One day, a sharp pain shot through my tooth.

I was immediately taken to a dentist for the first time in my life.
The dentist showed me the painful spot in a dental mirror. The center groove of one of my upper molars had turned brown.
"Ah, this is a cavity. Don't worry. It hasn't gotten bad yet, so it will heal quickly."

Soon after, whirrrrr the sound of the drill pierced my ears. I shed tears while my tooth was being drilled.

I wasn't crying because the drilling hurt. I was just incredibly frustrated that I had gotten a cavity despite having made up my mind to brush my teeth all by myself. The road to independence was a long one.

Because of this cavity, the "finishing touches by Mom" system was reinstated for a while. This was also incredibly frustrating. It was a double humiliation.



By the time I was in the fourth grade, my mother must have finally trusted me, as the "finishing touches by Mom" checks stopped, and I began brushing my teeth entirely on my own.
I vowed never to get another cavity and made sure to brush my teeth as carefully as possible every day.

At my elementary school, children who had no cavities during the annual dental checkup received a "Good Teeth Badge". The badge featured a picture of a beaver with bright white teeth, and the color changed every year.

The first year I started brushing on my own, no cavities were found during the dental checkup. When I received the "Good Teeth Badge," I felt like I had finally avenged my past cavity.

After that, receiving this "Good Teeth Badge" every year became my goal.
I continued to brush my teeth on my own. Every year, I felt proud whenever I received a "Good Teeth Badge" in a different color. My efforts paid off, and I was able to receive the badge every year without fail until I was in the sixth grade. I kept my badge collection carefully stored in the locked drawer of my study desk.



Years passed, and I became an adult. Fortunately, I seem to have relatively strong teeth, and since that incident in the second grade of elementary school, I hadn't had a single cavity until my late twenties, and I rarely went to the dentist.

However, it happened one day when I was exhausted from the busyness of work.

Throb!

The area around my lower right molar suddenly started to ache.


When I visited the dentist for the first time in a long while, I found out that my lower right wisdom tooth had a cavity and the surrounding gums were inflamed. My wisdom tooth had grown in just barely peeking out next to my molar, making it difficult for my toothbrush to reach.
What was reflected in the dentist's mirror was a wisdom tooth that looked miserably darkened and on the verge of developing a hole. To begin with, I didn't even know my wisdom tooth was growing so far back in my mouth.

It is, after all, frustrating to get a cavity.
I remembered crying out of frustration when I got a cavity as a boy.


Since the wisdom tooth with the cavity was buried close to the nerves in my gums, I was referred to an oral surgeon at a large hospital just in case, and I decided to have it extracted there.

For someone who had lived without any experience with surgery, the wisdom tooth extraction was a terrifying experience in itself.
They applied a drill to the exposed part of the wisdom tooth to break it apart. Then, they made an incision in part of the gum to dig out and remove the buried portion of the tooth.

Grrrrr... The sound and vibration of the drill echoed through my entire head. After that, I heard a crunch! dull sound. They were crushing the tooth with something like pliers. My mouth must have looked like a construction site. I closed my eyes and clenched my fists, fighting the fear.

Thankfully, the doctor in charge performed the procedure very skillfully.

Looking at the remains of the wisdom tooth that had been crushed while still decayed, I thought to myself. I must have been brushing carelessly because I was too busy. I need to take proper care of my teeth before my other teeth get cavities and end up being pulled out like this.

"Take care of your teeth, at the very least."

My mother's childhood catchphrase came back to me.


Thinking of this as a good opportunity in a sense, I decided to have regular maintenance at the dentist from then on.
Currently, I visit a local dentist about once every three months, mainly to have my teeth cleaned.
I go to the dentist not so much for treatment, but with the intention of getting advice about my teeth, such as having the dentist recommend a good toothbrush or teach me tips for brushing at home.

And when the dentist praises me, saying, "You've brushed well" or "It's better than last time," I mentally present myself with a "Good Teeth Badge."
However, there are times when they hit the nail on the head, saying things like, "Have you been busy lately? There's a lot of plaque left behind."
The dentist sees right through everything. Just like my mother who watched over my brushing when I was a boy, I intend to have the dentist continue to strictly check the condition of my teeth.


This year, my daughter was born.
She has only just started eating baby food, and her teeth haven't grown in yet. But perhaps her mouth feels itchy because her teeth are about to come in, as she puts all sorts of things in her mouth and chews on them. (Apparently, this is called teething.)

The other day, my daughter suddenly grabbed my finger and started gnawing on it.
The gums I felt for the first time with my fingertip were harder and firmer than I expected. This must mean that some fine teeth will surely grow in soon.

Showing her clean gums, my daughter smiled at me.
I wonder what I should feed her once her teeth come in.

And someday, when she starts brushing her teeth on her own, I intend to give her "finishing touches by Dad" as much as I can, just as my mother once did for me.

I'm sure that before long, she will start to dislike having her teeth brushed on her father's lap. That, in itself, is something to look forward to.