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Holiday is a tooth fairy tale of woe.

NEVER in my life have I had seven days of such bizarre extremes.

The Bruce clan packed up and headed for the sunny South in pursuit of rollercoasters and family fun at Legoland - but it ended with a mad dash home and me kneeling on my six-year-old as three dentists tried to take out his tooth.

Day one (Sunday): Leisurely drive to Surrey and a night in an hotel we had failed to book. I exceeded my own bad organisation on this holiday by a mile. Nevertheless the innkeeper squeezed us in despite our apparent lunacy.

Day two: Chessington World Of Adventures - no ticket, I forgot to print it. I told you I surpassed myself. Nevertheless we got in. The gatekeeper squeezed us in despite my apparent lunacy. The runaway train, monkey swingers and a performing sea lion later, an excellent day was had by all.

Follow Lindsay on Twitter @LLBruce or email: Night two: New hotel, excellent accommodation. All's well in the Brucey room. Well, that was until Corban woke us and I can only assume all of Windsor's dead, with unexplained pain in his mouth. Where was it? He couldn't say. Did it come and go? He couldn't say. Did he stop crying? Not once in 12 hours. The hotel let us stay despite our apparent lunacy.

Day three: Legoland. You've guessed it - no ticket. We are allowed in, despite their apparent lunacy, but what a day we had. Amazing sunshine, fantastic family fun, live pirate stunt shows, we did it all.

"Tonight will be different, they're shattered," we thought. Pah. These are our kids.

Night three: Bed time, kids asleep, DVD on for us... One hour later and a trip to the loo wakes the beast. Twelve more hours of screaming punctuated only by ours and yet - day four - he's up again while me and his dad look like extras for Village Of The Damned live! As we dragged ourselves round the park for the final day, the little Bruces bounced from one ride to the next until the day wound up with exhausted tears and hugs all round. Just so you know, we think Nathan will be fine again soon.

Corban on the other hand, not so much. The last day was spent driving home as fast as possible, several emergency dental appointments and a diagnosis of a severe abscess with a referral for his tooth to come out the next day.

Let's just say it has become clear that my son has no pain threshold. No amount of gas and air, sedation and motherly love helped the dentist get the offending gnasher out of his swollen mouth. Brute force and hard cash (for Corban, not the dentist) won over.

So there's always next year for the relaxing family trip. Going again? Of course, despite the apparent lunacy.
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Title Annotation:Letters
Publication:Evening Gazette (Middlesbrough, England)
Date:Jun 21, 2011
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