Showing posts with label toothbrushes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label toothbrushes. Show all posts

Tuesday, 9 October 2012

A Fishy Toothbrush Update

I had this toothbrush a few days ago, that tasted a little fishy and since yesterday was shopping day, I bought myself another.

I'd been making do with mouthwash and floss, so was looking forward to a nice, fresh, new, clean, non-fishy toothbrush.

Something you don't know about me, is that I have this weird aversion to putting things in my mouth that don't belong. By "don't belong" I mean not meant for human consumption. Toothbrushes are included in that. I push through it and brush my own teeth, sure, but the sound of anyone else brushing their teeth actually makes me violently dry-retch.

Seeing anyone else put anything in their mouth that doesn't belong makes me violently dry-retch. I'm that sap who sees toddlers (including my own) mouthing things and calls for help while gagging and running away. I'd be no good in an emergency - it really is that bad!

I also can't put anything in my mouth that has been in another person's mouth. Yes, this includes having a bite of someone's sandwich. It has to be from the uneaten end. And it includes drinking out of a drink bottle someone else has used. If my toothbrush is wet when I pick it up, just the thought of what may have happened can make me gag.

With that in mind, you can likely understand why someone messing with my toothbrush is worse than you may have first thought.

So anyhow, yesterday I bought my new toothbrush. I considered buying two, nearly did, then decided I was being foolish. Toothbrush interference isn't a common occurrence in my house. Nor should it be.

I chose a colour I liked that was different to the other four in the house, and brought it home with the rest of my groceries. So far so good.

We had done the shopping late in the afternoon, so the grocery bags got dumped on the table with only the things that needed refrigeration being put away immediately. I started getting dinner ready with the knowledge the rest would be put away soon enough. And while I was cooking, I was distracted from what was happening over at the table.

Never trust a two-year-old, is all I can say.

Ten minutes later he wandered into the kitchen, looked at me all adorable-like and said: "Kiss my minty, Mum." Which, of course, is a direct translation of: "I just brushed my teeth; now I want a kiss." So I did (who wouldn't?). But I am, now, a more suspicious person. I knew he had been fossicking in the groceries earlier on.

"Which toothbrush did you use, sweetheart?" I asked nervously.

And he looked at me. And he giggled. And he giggled some more. And then he showed me...

So, today, I need a new toothbrush...

If you liked this post, please share it with your friends :)

Image by: digitalart

Sunday, 7 October 2012

Smells Minty... But Tastes A Little Fishy!

We're not opposed to a little practical joking in our house.

Innocent jokes, of course; ones that don't cause humiliation or harm or fear.

And the one who gets away with the majority of them hasn't yet turned three years old! It's hard to practical joke a two-year-old in return without feeling mean and more than a little over the top.

Yesterday, he got me good.

Every morning after breakfast, I take a couple of fish oil capsules (jus' makin' sure I get me my omegas; wouldn't want to run out of brain function). A couple of times, Mister-Almost-Three has asked for one too. I know what he's going to do: bite it, get a mouthful of cod liver oil, announce how putrid the stuff is (in his own special way) and spit it all into the rubbish. And so I allow it. Fun times.

And that's what happened yesterday morning.

Only, first he spat the capsule into his hand, and got oil all over it, before depositing the casing into the rubbish bin. He then enticed me to smell his oily hand, which was indeed as putrid as he made it out to be. I suggested it'd be a grand idea to wash his hands, and off he went to the bathroom, without hesitation.

That should have been my first clue.

What should have been my second clue, was that he came back five minutes later with still incredibly oily hands, that didn't appear to have seen any soap at all.
So I helped him - as you do.

The day meandered on uneventfully, eventually darkening into night and I thought no more about it, except to tell Mr. Me, in passing, why there might be some residual fishy odour wafting from our youngest offspring.

Eventually, everyone went to bed, and I, being the last one up as usual, shut up shop and mindlessly performed my bedtime routines.

Innocent, I was.

Toothpaste has a strong smell. Apparently it's smell is stronger than its taste, because I couldn't smell anything amiss as I lifted the paste-laden brush to my mouth.

Boy, did I taste it!

I garbled a foamy, fish flavoured oath, and heard giggling from my bedroom.

I peered in at two delighted faces. "He said he made it yucky," grinned Mr. Me.

And the little one said: "You just shh," his little fingers held up to his lips. "I'll fix it later."

Except now I'm scared more than ever!

If you liked this post, please share it with your friends :)

Image courtesy of RJSSIGNSCOM
Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...