Dear Dominic,
Yes, I’m writing to you again. Yes, it’s because you are driving me crazy. Again.
Want me to stop writing about you? Stop being a buffoon.
You had your new retainer for exactly a week. Then you threw it away with trash on your lunch tray.
No big deal, right? Call the orthodontist and ask for a replacement.
Oh, it IS a big deal. Here’s a timeline of why:
Friday, April 19: Braces off. There is much rejoicing.
Friday, April 26: The incident. (What were you thinking? Expensive retainer? Who needs that old thing?)
Monday, April 29: I call the orthodontist in Savannah — four hours away — where you completed your braces plan. “Oh, we don’t keep those molds. We need him to come in to get a new impression.” Not happening.
So I call the orthodontist on our health plan in Atlanta at the location that is closest to us. There is no answer. All day.
Tuesday, April 30: Resume calling. Finally get a voice mailbox. Leave message.
Wednesday, May 1: Call again. Get human who says the orthodontist is only in that location on Tuesdays and every other Thursday. What the flock? Human says we can take our chances during walk-in hours early Thursday morning in a different part of Atlanta.
Side note: Shall I remind you that Atlanta traffic is so bad that a five-mile journey might require us to tune up our car and pack a lunch?
Thursday, May 2: Wake up before dawn to make it to the walk-in appointment first. Beg the people to get you in and out quickly so you can make it to school. Your grades are not good enough for a day away from instruction. They make an impression — of your lower teeth. Why didn’t you tell them you needed the top instead? I had to tell them. Come on, Dominic!
They tell me to come back in the afternoon to pick up the finished product. So I battle rush-hour traffic to get there. Yet, they will not give me the retainer. They need to try it out on you.
For the love of God.
Couldn’t someone have told us this during the morning visit? I wasted 1.5 hours driving. Yay for the My Favorite Murder podcast. (Stay sexy, and chain your kid’s retainer to his body.)
Friday, May 3: Wake up before dawn to meet “Zane” at the orthodontist location closest to us. How dare you be cranky because I rushed you to get out the door on time! Don’t make me use what I learned via MFM.
Here you are with your new $200 retainer on your $3,000 smile. The sign indicates my feeling about all this business.
Don’t ever doubt my love for you. The fact that you are still breathing after all this should be proof enough.
If you lose this retainer, I’m going to make you earn the money to replace it by cleaning my car with your toothbrush.
I’m serious.
Try me.
Love and kisses,
Your out-of-patience mother
Observe and report 
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