This morning my son Anthony has an appointment with the dentist, his first visit. The dentist will look at his baby teeth, his precious coronets, and he will say ‘Good. Good.’ He won’t pull out anything, or fill anything; he will simply consider the general condition of Anthony’s mouth. Anthony will be pleased when he grows up. Appreciative. ‘Mum, thank heavens you took me to that dentist when I was four.’

I have kept him home from play-group because of the appointment. I hope I’ve done the right thing. He knows there is no need to be frightened. ‘There is no need to be frightened, Anthony,’ I said last night. ‘The dentist is your friend. He will simply smile at you and say, “My, you’ve got a good mother. Not all mothers care enough about their little boys’ teeth to take them to the dentist so young!”’