The dentist always gets my name wrong, calls me Jason. It’s close enough that I don’t correct him the first couple times, and now it’s too late. My name is Jason. I have to go to the dentist about once a month because one of my lower incisors is coming in sideways and I’m probably going to need braces. My mom says I have my father’s teeth in my mother’s mouth. The idea of both parents occupying the same space goes a long way to explain why I don’t like going to the dentist.