Last night he was playing in the dining hall when he fell and busted his top front teeth. He cried for about 2 or 3 minutes before he manned-up and calmed down. In all seriousness, he was a real trooper considering the fall he took. We called our friend Anya whose father is a dentist and he had us come right over. After an inspection of the damage he relieved our fears, telling us that the teeth were still fine and would not need any real fixing other than grinding the sharp edges to protect his lip and tongue. He was not quite as much of a trooper for this experience and had to be restrained by all of us. Once the drill was put away, he regained enough composure to give Mr. Sergey (coincidentally the same Sergey that cooks the great meat when we go to the banya) a high-five.
Today we have tried to ascertain the sensitivity of the broken teeth and have concluded that he will be fine other than looking like a bare-fisted boxer until he's 5. At first we were pretty sad, but the new look is starting to grow on me and I think I like it. The same cannot be said for his mother.
In the aftermath of his impromptu dental work, we found out that the boy and I would be getting our second run of Hepatitis A shots today. Though I suspected that he would not be pleased, nothing could prepare me for his terrified panic attack. He lost his mind at the mere prospect of the stethoscope to say nothing of the actual injection. It's been a tough 24 hours for the boy and we are just hoping that he makes it through dinner without everything going "pear-shaped."