Hamlet’s Crown
One Possible Reaction to a visit to the dentist: “I need a crown, I can’t believe it. Why me? This is so inconvenient, I’m going to have to take time off from work and I have a big presentation coming up. The expense is ridiculous, my lousy insurance is only going to cover half of the expense. My dentist’s hands are the size of tennis racquets, my jaw hurts already from being pried open endlessly. I don’t like needles, I don’t like pain, I don’t like being asked personal questions when my dentist’s hands are halfway down my throat and I can’t answer without gagging. It’s so unfair, I brush my teeth every day, why is this happening to me. The office is all the way across town, over 15 minutes with traffic. And why can’t they schedule at a reasonable hour. To get to the office at 7:30 I practically have to get up in the middle of the night. What a nightmare.”
Another Possible Response: “I need a crown. No surprise given my age, glad I haven’t needed this procedure years ago. I’m looking forward to taking a little time off from work so I can catch up on some reading, get some rest. The insurance pays half of the expense which is pretty great given how much this procedure could cost. My dentist is an outstanding professional, highly trained, well regarded. I am so lucky to be living in 2026. I’ll have state of the art anesthesia, won’t feel much of anything, and excellent care. A hundred years ago, this amazing technology didn’t even exist, I would have lost the tooth for sure. The office is only a little over 15 minutes away. I’ll get up early, watch the sunrise. So many people in the world don’t have access to first class care. Glad to get this taken care of, I’ll be able to eat the foods I like for years to come.”
Which of the above reactions to the dental procedure is healthier, indicative of a more content person. (“There is nothing good for bad but thinking makes it so” suggests Hamlet in Act II before, not taking his own advice, things get dark by the end of the play.) Which person do you want to be? More importantly, which person do you want to help your beloved child to be?
Not that you can thoroughly change your feelings just by saying the second paragraph out loud while still internally believing the first . But now that we have kids, it’s no longer all about us. By reciting the second paragraph, your kids can hear that a little adversity is not the end of the world and that there’s something to be said for just playing the cards you’re dealt. Especially if overturning the board and setting fire to the game is not an option.
That comparisons are odious does not obviate that contrasts can also be illustrative: “The hot and cold running champagne in the shower has run out and the Oompa-Loompas have brought me the wrong sushi; I’m going to have to get out of the hot tub and who even knows if the Swedish Biking Team will still be here when I get finished excoriating the staff” is certainly one way to go about it. Occasionally reflecting that we are not among the two-something billion folks on the planet who lack access to safe drinking water, walk every day to collect (hopefully) uncontaminated water, is another.
I am not advocating that we deny what our children are feeling--“you sure do want a pony, although admittedly I’m not certain how we would get the animal up to our apartment in the elevator”—nor usurp the feeling from them—“you lost the student council election? I’ll get that Susie and her little dog too!” Nor am I recommending mediocrity as the way forward. Try, try again. But don’t be a damn fool about it. And after 60 minutes of clock time, take a shower, say “good game” and mean it.
Which brings me to the following to paragraphs about the college acceptance decisions that will shortly be oozing into our children’s inboxes: “Stanford rejected me? Those morons! What did I do wrong? And why did I study so hard, write all those papers, take all those advanced classes, sign up for all those clubs (there’s no way the admissions committee could know I never attended any actual meetings), suck up to my teachers, pretend I was interested in how a bill becomes a law and mitosis? I didn’t get into Princeton either? What bullshit! I’m going to end up at Elon? Or Haverford? Safety schools! Ick! What a travesty of a parody. This is an outrage! Four years in North Carolina or Pennsylvania? Might as well be the Third Circle of the Inferno, now I’m not even sure I want to bother going to college.”
As opposed to, “I can’t believe I was admitted to Elon and Haverford. So grateful, so thankful, so happy. Great choices. College is a transformative experience, can’t wait to dig deeper, learn more in about history, literature, math, science, and philosophy, so many amazing courses in the catalog! Sticker price for four years will top $400,000 but my hard working, wonderful parents have put away all those samoleans and have been kind enough to fill in the financial aid forms, so I’ll be graduated with only maybe $30,000 of debt. Not too bad and I’ve already got a part-time campus job lined up. It’s going to be great, can’t believe how fortunate I am.”
Could it be argued that the student griping about not winning the Stanford or Princeton lottery will be grumpy no matter what? Could we agree that the student pleased to be heading to Elon or Haverford will be successful no matter where they matriculate?
Does your articulation about getting a crown at the dentist translate directly into appreciative, gracious child?
One way to find out.
I hope you’ll let me know.
