Toothbrushing = Torture

In our house, "toothbrush" is considered a curse word by the under sixty-inch set. Literally, the words "Please go brush your teeth" are tantamount to asking some smallish village to set fire to a large perimeter and then go into their houses and wait to be consumed. It causes THAT MUCH anguish.

I knew this was going to be a problem early. My oldest, at the end of an extraordinary day at Kindergarten, was talking at cheetah speed, trying to tell me about the play date he wanted to go on, the snack he needed, asking where his younger brother was, blah, blah. His mouth was moving at warp speed but, somehow*, I was able to isolate his mouth in my vision, laser in on his upper teeth, and look at the petri dish of grossness that his lack of brushing had left where his teeth and gums met.

I about barfed.

When he finally stopped speaking, I said "We are going home to brush your teeth." Small villagers response emanated. Play date was moved to another day. And torture with a Thomas the Tank Engine toothbrush ensued.

I don't know how long his teeth were like that, but, good golly. I think I owe anyone who had to talk to him a very heartfelt apology.

Today, after he was safely in carpool buddy's car, probably rubbing his hands together going "MWAH HA HA HA", I figured out he hadn't brushed his teeth. The brush was completely dry, as was the wash basin in his bathroom.

The evil "I'll teach you a lesson you won't soon forget" part of me wants to get in the car, drive 80 to his school, interrupt his teacher, and brush his teeth in front of the entire class.

The sane, less evil part of me, says "Somebody will point out that his breath smells like a garbage disposal." I just hope that somebody is a girl and that it embarrasses him SO MUCH that he gets the award for "Best Flosser" and "Best Brusher" next time we see the dentist.

But, I'm not counting on it. I'm counting my blessings that we have dental insurance.

And, this afternoon, when I pick him up from school? I'm wearing my sunglasses and not staring him straight in the face.

It's the only way I think I'll be able to keep myself from hurling in the carpool line.





*Magical Mommy Powers. MMP for sure.