“Luckily, I know just where my toothbrush is. I haven’t been as vigilant about my eyebrows though.”
Where did the weekend go?
Probably the same place rhetorical questions go to die. Either or, I know at least forty-three percent of it was spent trying to avoid thinking about the fact the pool opens this week and I still need a swimsuit. But, as I still have entire day to dodge that horror, let’s move on to something less likely to give you nightmares.
(Statistics have shown most bad are composed of clowns or me in Lycra. Sometimes me dressed as a clown. Or, strangely enough, clowns in Lycra. Either way you cut it, the whole thing’s really disturbing.)
There hasn’t been much out of the ordinary going on around the Split level, you know, besides the baby choosing to spend his time putting himself in life-threatening situations or doing things that make him look socially awkward.
Exhibit A: The Toothbrush
Eh em …I mean the “teeth brush”.
Doc isn’t quite sure what brushing his teeth even means, but so help me if I can’t find one of the five toothbrushes he’s lifted off people in the house. Learning early that licking someone else’s toothbrush makes it yours has been highly profitable for the shortest among the family. In his possession…
One Jake and the Neverland Pirates
One standard Colgate
One Barbie Beach theme
One Dora and Diego
One Crayola marker-shaped tooth scrubber
Parents of this particular individual suspect there have been many more “teethbrushes” hoarded and hidden in various spots in the house. At this point, asking, “Did you brush your teeth?” is a pointless endeavor met with..
“I can’t. The baby stole it.”
Being smarter than everyone else who lives here, I got a jump on the whole thing and keep my toothbrush in an undisclosed lock box in Switzerland.
Really, the whole thing would be pretty adorable if we were rich; I hear the wealthy buy teethbrushes in spades. And also if I could stop saying, “Teethbrush.”
“I don’t know where the teethbrush is. But we have to go buy frozen pizza. Here, have this book that’s been ripped in half.” – yelled by me in the garage
“Did everyone put their teethbrushes back in the holder? And I meant toothbru- …nevermind, I just saw the baby run off with all of them.”
“Oh, that’s so cute. Your baby has a toothbrush.”
“Thanks, but it’s actually a teethbrush and he always brings it to the post office.”
At any rate, I know he’ll grow out of this. If you can say anything about parenting, it’s one, big transitional stage with a side of optimism and ever-present feeling of failure. *High fives everyone reading*
Well, I’ve got to haul the troops out in search of supplies for the weekend. You all have a fantastic holiday.
In the meantime, I’ll be grabbing more teeth brushes, wine and some trash bags I can cut into a swimsuit.
Paige Kellerman blogs about marriage, babies and gin at www.paigekellerman.com, and is the author of At Least My Belly Hides My Cankles: Mostly-True Tales of An Impending Miracle. You can reach her at paigekellerman@gmail.com
