Where's My Prize?

I'm really proud of myself.  No, not for saving someone from a burning building, or anything like that.  No, I'm actually really proud of myself for a successful visit to the dentist a few days ago.  "No cavities.  No bleeding gums. " Yay!  And, no, I wasn't scared.  Not one bit.  "Why are you so pale, sir?" But now that I've had time to reflect, why didn't I get a sticker?-- or  a balloon?  "Sir, are you shaking?"  I don't get it; I was a model patient.  "Go ask the dentist."  I didn't bite, I didn't gag, I didn't even cry (well, at least not that I recall).  You know, I'm starting to smell age discrimination.  "You're gonna hear from my lawyers!" Nowhere in that dental office did I see an age limit on prizes.  Nowhere.  I'll have to file a protest on my next visit.  "Maybe you should complain AFTER the dentist sees you."  In the meantime, I'll continue to practice good dental hygiene everywhere I go.  "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. President."  (I still say the Secret Service overreacted on my recent visit to the White House.) "The guy's got a weapon!"  No, actually it was my electric toothbrush...  "Uh, sorry about that, Mister..."