Oh where is my toothbrush

Let’s say, hypothetically, that due to some bathroom remodeling you misplaced your son’s toothbrush and he hadn’t brushed his teeth for a number of days. Perhaps six days. Hypothetically.

So, while you’re at the grocery store, you decide enough is enough and let him pick out a new toothbrush. He selects a ‘Hotwheels’ toothbrush: a toothbrush with a small scale car attached at the end. As we finish up the shopping, he sits very quietly in the cart, clutching the toothbrush, continually reminding me that he is allowed to open it in the car.

We get to the car, and he opens it and it’s glorious. Who knew a toothbrush could make anyone so happy? And we get home and the toothbrush becomes a toy rather than the intended cleaning instrument for teeth. It pushes our lawn sprinkler (?!) around the kitchen island. We go on a walk and the toothbrush comes along. We frolic in the park, chase each other around, and begin the walk home.

We arrive home and the little man starts digging in the dirt – after a tiny little timeout for inadvertently running in front of an oncoming car. All of a sudden his face crumples as though he has just impaled himself on a bed of nails.

‘My t-o-o-o-o-th br-u-u-u-u-u-sh.’

Riiiiiiight….. the toothbrush that went to the park but didn’t quite make it back.

Oh, that toothbrush.

We retrace our steps to the blessed park.
We walk home, inconsolable, while I cross my fingers the nearby Walgreen’s carries the same toothbrush.

It’s like the inane Veggie Tales song.….


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