KNEPPER: Simon says don't do 'oral aerobics'

For a few moments the other day, it was as if I had returned to the second grade where my teacher, Mrs. Powell, was introducing us to a game of “Simon says.”

My 8-year-old son was squirming around in a reclining dentist chair, learning about the process for making impressions of his teeth so he could be fitted for a tooth retainer.

Seated next to my wife, I was deeply engrossed as the female dental hygienist explained the process to us — from the series of photos they planned to shoot, showing his profile and teeth, to the actual procedure of biting into an appliance filled with a white gooey substance that came out of a can and looked like pancake mix.

It was roughly 30 years since I endured the same procedure, and I proudly offered to anyone in earshot that somewhere in my father’s house was a clay cast of my upper teeth featuring what I can only explain as my middle-school “alien look.”

As best I could recall, it was because my mouth wasn’t large enough to accommodate all those adult teeth.

My parents might have argued that point, however.

For all I know Dad uses it as a burglar deterrent, now.

“Don’t make me get out my son’s alien tooth cast. I know how to use it.”

Anyway, as we sat waiting and watching, the hygienist made a series of requests to our son.

“Look right at me and smile,” she said as she composed the first photo.

“OK, now turn to the side and don’t smile,” she said.

Once she had a full set of those poses, he sat back down in the dental chair where she explained the use of an appliance I might refer to as a “mouth stretcher.”

“We’re going to use this to open your mouth real wide so we can see your teeth better for a picture,” she said. “OK, open really wide.”

It was at that moment, I happened to look over at my wife, who was sitting with her mouth open really wide, also.

Before I could make fun of her, I realized I had been doing the same thing.

My son’s lips were stretched to the point where he looked like a Muppet.

It would have been a great thing to laugh about, had I not been too busy looking around to make sure nobody saw me sitting with my mouth wide open.

“OK, now bite down for another picture,” the woman said to our son.

Just like we were competing in a game, my wife and I unconsciously bit down, as well.

“Open wider,” she said.

My mouth was beginning to hurt as I followed orders from my place across the room.

It was like oral aerobics.

I was embarrassed and made a conscious effort to sit still.

“Smile for me.”

I realized I was sitting with a big, cheesy grin when my wife looked over and noticed my expression. She laughed.

“Stop imitating your son,” she whispered.

Somewhat miffed over being caught in the act, I explained I was really just imitating her.

“Now, we’re going to have you bite down so we can make a cast of your teeth,” the hygienist said.

By the time the casts were made, I felt as though I truly shared in my son’s dental experience ... except for the funny taste in his mouth and the fact that he was getting a brand new tooth cast.

I’m going to need to see if my dad is finished using mine …

Ken Knepper is publisher of The Newton Kansan. He can be contacted at kenneth.knepper@thekansan.com