Our family has been going to the same dentist, Dr. Sam, for years and years, ever since Kelsey was a little girl. I remember when she reluctantly crawled up in his magic chair to ride it up and down while I stood next to her trying to make a big fuss over it (while my heart was practically beating out of my chest). She was my first-born and I was probably more nervous than she was about her visit to the dentist.

But Dr. Sam made it all okay.

He let her ride up and down.

He showed her every single tool he used and tapped her fingernails with them.

He then got one of his rubber gloves, blew it up with his air pump, tied it off, and drew two eyes and a big smile on it. He transformed a rubber glove into The Rubber Glove Man! Kelsey thought he was amazing. I thanked God that I had found a dentist who cared.

She calmed down. I calmed down.

And Dr. Sam proceeded to clean and polish her teeth (after he counted them outloud and made a big fuss over what a big girl she was).

Now, I have seven kids. Quite a long stretch from that time I went in with little Kelsey (who is now getting ready to turn 17). When we come in for our check-ups, Dr. Sam reserves the entire office for our family. Today, we were there from 10:30 to 3:00--all seven kids got cleanings, polishings, and even some fillings here and there.

I was leaning over Dr. Sam as he was showing me Kelsey's teeth and how they were responding to her braces. Immediately, I was put in a time warp and there I was, leaning over Kelsey once again, pretending to be all excited about how she could ride in a magic chair. Where did the years go? The new molars, the lost teeth, the extractions, the nervousness, the anxiety, the little boxes to carry her baby teeth home, the stickers, the new toothbrushes in their plastic boxes. Her teeth are beautiful. They're the teeth of a woman now. Straight, gleaming, polished, framed by a lip gloss smile.

Then it was Kenna's turn. My little four-year-old, the youngest of the seven, climbed into Dr. Sam's chair, nervous, anxious, biting her lip. It was her first visit to his office as a patient. I stood beside her, telling her she was brave and everything would be okay.

Then Dr. Sam walked in and made everything okay. Kenna got to ride in his magic chair, going up and down. She began to smile.

"Do you think she can go all the way to the ceiling?"

"If she did, I would have to be a giraffe dentist to reach her!"

Wait, was that a laugh from Kenna?

Then he poured out his tools on the tray and began showing them to Kenna, touching each one of her fingernails. He may as well have poured out my heart because I saw the years flying in front of me, so fast. I felt as if I needed to grab them and pull with all my might to slow down the rush of time.

Then Dr. Sam reached for a rubber glove,

and his air pump.

Such a simple act, done over and over, so many times that I'm sure Dr. Sam isn't even aware of the words that spill out of his mouth as he talks to nervous little children.

There sat Kenna, so tiny and small in that big magic chair. All of my children have sat there and over time I have stood over them, watching their legs stretching and stretching until they fill its length. And she watched, transfixed, as Dr. Sam blew up a rubber glove, tied it off, and magically turned it into Rubber Glove Man.

And I blinked back some stray tears as I realized this was his final show.

Rubber Glove Man, you made those first visits to the dentist so much easier. Thank you.

You'll be sorely missed.

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