Toothbrush IPosted: January 17, 2016
Meechel is my next-door neighbor at my ghetto apartment building. She’s in her 50s and has two wonderful grandchildren who are her life.
Potty training the boy has been interesting. He is able to handle urination with ease, but he has a struggle with #2. He needs to remove all his clothes.
Last week he informed grandma he needed to go. He went into the bathroom for a few appropriate minutes, then called her to help with cleanup. She took care of his bum, then left him to get dressed.
It took him longer than expected, but just as she was about to check on him, he came out. He sat in the living room and began playing with his cars.
Then he started fidgeting, pulling at the crotch of his pants.
“What’s wrong, honey?”
“My peepee hurts.”
“Why does your peepee hurt?”
“I cleaned it.” He started to tear up.
“Oh, honey, I’m sorry. What did you clean it with?”
“A toothbrush” by now he was balling.
“You don’t use a toothbrush there. Why did you use a toothbrush?”
“Because I used toothpaste.”
“Honey, don’t cry. Grandma will get you a new toothbrush.”
“I didn’t use my toothbrush, grandma, I used yours.”