This past weekend we had a house full of company (just like every weekend for the past month). My parents are leaving for a LDS mission and drove around to say goodbye to everyone. My brother and his family drove from Portland to meet them half way. It was a fun visit with plenty of eating and games. During the visit I did some dental work on my nephew, Bryson (second from the left). On Sunday, I took Bryson (with my dad and Randy) to my office. Bryson and I went to the operatory room and left Randy and Fred in the waiting room. During the procedures I joked with my assistant about how I do not know the names of the instruments. The tools used to pull teeth have several different names depending on where you are working and I am still working on what names my office uses. After a filling and an extraction I felt pretty good about the work and sent Bryson to his dad. On the drive home Randy told me about the conversation him and Bryson had while they were waiting for me. Randy asked Bryson, "How did Kevin do?" Bryson replied, "He didn't know what he was doing." It turns out that while I was joking with my assistant, Bryson was hearing everything we were saying. I hear people say to me all day that they hate the dentist (me) but to have your nephew say you don't know what you are doing burns a bit more.
