Women, access 'kind moxie' and speak up

I was at the dentist the other day with my anxiety-prone daughter (she and dentists don't mix). She needed to hold still for just a 10-second injection after which pain would go away. But she was too worked up, so I needed to be resourceful.

I was motherly with calm, soothing words; then with loving, firm tones; then with taking her by the hand and having a heart-to heart talk of get-your-fanny-in-there-and-do-the-difficult-thing. Usually that works but this time she saw the 4-inch needle and it was Round 2 of drama queen.

At the end of my rope, and with my three other children in the waiting room who would soon have an adventurous undertaking, the dental assistant suggested nicely but firmly: "Why don't you go into the waiting room? She might play more the adult role if you're gone."

It clicked. She was absolutely right. I gave my daughter a kiss, said she would be fine and walked out, despite her desperate grasping for my hand.

Within a minute or two, I heard her cry (approaching injection), and about 10 seconds later, all was quiet. In 20 minutes she emerged victorious, with dental work done and ready for her token. The dental assistant pulled me aside and apologized if she had been out of place. I assured her she had not. I appreciate women with appropriate moxie — those who know a situation, how to handle it, and do it in a kind but firm way.

Sometimes, ladies, what we need is "kind moxie." We worry so much about being nice-nice (and usually it's not the annoying she-bear who worries about this) that we tend to become a bit wimpish.

In fact, I respect women more who have the savvy to say what they mean. This is the good kind of communication, and it's a great blend of confidence and knowledge. It's not mean or degrading, such as, "Your child is an out-of-control beast who could be Charles Manson's son ... and I mean that in the best possible way." Rather, this "kind moxie" communication is clear, candid and warm.

For example, my daughter started horse-riding lessons. The first time I stayed through the hour to be sure all was well. A few minutes into the lesson, the teacher gave her some instruction and I knew my daughter did not understand it. As I happened to be near her, I clarified it with two words. The teacher looked at me and said, "No," with a shake of her head that also said, "I'm the teacher."

She was absolutely right. It was for me to zip my lips, as I am wont to say to my own children, and let the person in charge be in charge.