Don't tell my son he's getting his braces off then tell him when he shows up, all anticipation, that you are not going to take them off.
Not on my watch.
I had left him there for the appointment and I went to do errands because I have been in that doctor's office enough times to see everything there is to see. Believe me.
I wasn't gone too long when Braeden called (in slight panic) to tell me that the orthodontist had a different plan and it didn't include taking his braces off.
I said, "I'll be right there."
Because that's what you do when your boy sends out a distress signal. I was growing increasingly irritated with said orthodontist as I thought about it so by the time I got there, I went in guns blazing. (Not really, I don't have guns. Much to my brothers' dismay.)
I'm pretty sure I had the look though. Adam tells me about the look. My sisters and Janet have confirmed that yes, they think they know what he's talking about.
Again. My boy. Distress.
So I found out what the deal was. I may or may not have been a little cheeky.
Braeden got his braces off.
You would think, after all that, he would be willing to pose for a nice post braces picture.
On second thought, maybe I should have left the braces on the uncooperative kid.
Then he got distracted by Emma so I got a picture.
Adam said that because I was a Mama Bear, he took me to The Diamond Knot and bought me a "growler" which is an enormous container of root beer.
I took a (blurry, sorry Adam) picture of it on the counter and someone said, "But you can't see how big it is." So the next thing we knew, Braeden had thrown his size 13 up on the counter.
Adam said, "Get you foot off the counter!" and I quick snapped a (blurry, sorry Adam) picture and then we all drank root beer.