Joe has a partial upper denture, and one of the teeth broke off of it a few weeks ago so we’ve been going back and forth to the dentist to get it repaired.
After going the first week so that the dentist could make a molding of his entire mouth, and then going the second week to have it fitted; by the third week we were finally able to go and pick up his new dentures.
Joe was pretty proud of his new teeth, and on the way home he kept grinning and grinning at Dot and I to show them off.
“Nice teeth!” We told him about a hundred times.
Once we got back to the house, I got our lunch of grilled cheese sandwiches and homemade minestrone soup put together, and we all sat at the table to eat.
Joe took one bite of his grilled cheese sandwich and shouted, “What the hell…?”
He looked at Dot and I suspiciously, “Who the HELL put a ROCK in my lunch?!”
He then proceeded to spit one of his newly remodeled teeth into his hand.
I looked at Dot, rolled my eyes, and said with a grin, “Seriously?!”
She sighed and said matter-of-factly, “Well, we’re not gonna do anything about it today…”
Then she looked at Joe and barked, “Joe – finish your sandwich!”