It was an end of an era for my family this week. After 12 years, we had our final orthodontist appointment — my younger daughter got her braces off.

Any parent who has endured the consultations, Phase I and Phase II, mid-afternoon visits every six weeks, broken wires, tearing the house apart looking for the misplaced fox-size and rabbit-size elastic bands and wax strips and taken side trips to the oral surgeon for extractions, can appreciate the magnitude of this occasion.

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