My nine-year old boy, is a very nine-year-old, very boy.

He doesn’t especially like baths, is typically opposed to brushing his hair, and although he’ll do whatever I ask of him – it usually takes him three trips down the hall to remember what the task was.  For any objective that doesn’t relate specifically to his radar-interests like 4-wheeling or rockhounding, he’s far from organized.

But recently, I’ve witnessed a new side to my very nine-year-old boy.  In June, at the end of the school year, his orthodontist informed us that he would need an expander in his upper jaw, to correct his bite.  Darla had an expander at his age as well, so he was aware of what it meant — a metal and plastic device would be cemented to his upper molars for the better part of a year.

Darla mentored him well when it came time to fit the expander:  “The play-dough stuff doesn’t taste good, but it won’t take long.  And when Mom cranks the expander every night, it feels weird, but doesn’t really hurt.”

He took it all like a trooper – the “play-dough” mouth form used to mold the expander, the gluing it in, the “cranks” that expand the jaw.  But what has impressed me more than any of this, is the way he’s approached the next level of his treatment.  Unlike Darla, he needs to wear a face mask every night and band his upper jaw to the face mask to pull it forward, leveraging the mask against his forehead and chin.  He was told very clearly that the only way to complete the 11-month treatment in time, is to wear the mask every night for at least 10 hours per night.  He can take breaks for sleep-overs, but that’s about it.

So far, he’s completed nearly three months of the eleven months he’ll need to wear the mask.  He has never complained during any of the treatment.  Never refused to wear the face mask.  Never whined about what must be a major annoyance.  And he’s almost never even needed me to remind him to put it on at bedtime.  He’s only asked to skip a night here and there because he has a canker sore or a skin irritation where the rubber bands hit his lip.

And so this year-long treatment which I assumed would be so stressful – has not been.  And my son – who typically needs so much attention to get his ducks in the same county – has decided his dental health is a priority.

With children, wonders never cease.

Other torch-passers
Candid Karina – When I was Ten
Citizenship Foundation – 14 Year-Old Wins London Peace Award

What does passing the torch mean to you? Is it teaching? Passing traditions? Doing the right thing? Or good news about youth?

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Former PTT posts.