My dentist comes from Paraguay or Argentina, originally of European stock, and very quietly aristocratic. He's lovely and calm, plays Beethoven over the office sound system, and has an office with one of the best views of False Creek that one can find.
He doesn't tell me I'm a good patient, even though I have a big mouth and perfectly straight chicklet-teeth. I have an auxilary nerve, which makes freezing a challenge, and worse, I think, I have a "curious tongue".
A curious tongue is not a tongue of an unusual colour or shape, it's a tongue that follows the dental intruments around as the dentist does his work, seemingly with a mind of its own, as if it's determined to find out just what exactly is going on in there to its own satisfaction, regarless of what my brain says.
The hygenist was the one who told me about it. She said it's fairly common. Still, it must be annoying, like a little kid tugging on your pant leg as you go about preparing dinner, asking, "What's that?" over and over and over.