The good news? They won't have to break his jaw to fix that looming overbite. The bad news? He has a crazy bite-plate that positively prevents him from chewing. Literally. He cannot chew food. Oh, and he can't enunciate. Which sucks for a guy who makes his living by talking.
Now for me, the not chewing part would have been a deal-breaker. The Mateo, however, sees this as a challenge.
"This will be my new best friend," he announced, holding up our chopping knife. "And this guy, too," he added, patting the blender.
And, obviously, our neighbohood smoothie joint just scored one regular customer. He could place a standing breakfast, lunch & dinner order---and make that a double protein add-in, please.
Another upside is that our meals have taken on a more leisurely pace. Used to be The Mateo would suck down his food in 2.3 minutes and then start picking things off our plates. No more. Now, we wait for him while he chops his food into microscopic, easily mash-able pieces.
He also became an overnight toothbrush fan. He carries one around. He ducks into bathrooms everywhere for a quick brush-up. This is great improvement for a guy who used to view teeth-brushing as a strictly voluntary, largely unnecessary practice---one of those ploys set up by conspiring dentists.
"You sound like Sid!' James hooted after listening to Daddy try to pronounce "sixty-six." Leave it to James to compare The Mateo to the lisping sloth from the movie Ice Age.
Three cheerth for a Daddy who believth ith never too late!