Sierra couldn't find her toothbrush the other night, and it was about time for a new one anyway, so I opened up a new package and gave her a new lime green one. She was pumped, new toothbrushes are really exciting around here. Last night she walks into the livingroom at toothbrushing time, carrying her old, frazzled, pink toothbrush. When I asked her where she found it, she said, "On the floor. Behind the toilet. In a cup of medicine." While I might not be totally sure what all is on the floor, behind the toiIet, I promise there are no cups of medicine. Anyways, I made a face and told her to throw it away. Her expression was as if I had suggested drowning a sack of kittens. "But it's my toothbrush."
"It's old and disgusting, and you have a new one."
"You can't just throw it away!"
"Ok, give it to me, I'll hold on to it."
She looks at me very skeptically, and backs away into the bathroom to finish her business. When she comes back, she asks me what I'm doing with her toothbrush.
"Snuggling it."
"Then what?"
"Then I'm going to throw it away, because it is gross."
"NO! It's just, it's just that, I really want to keep it."
Of course. If there is no room in the box with your collection of Sweet Tea lids, or in the stack of graded TAKS math worksheets which you might want to look at when you are older, just tuck it into the drawer with your dad's Girbauds.
