Whenever my ex gets angry at me, he threatens to dunk my toothbrush in the toilet. As cruel and disgusting as that sounds to most normal people, it is especially horrifying to me. I am a giant germophobe. I am neurotic about hygiene and obsessive over cleanliness.
Tonight, while straightening my hair in the guest bath, I heard Gavin walk by the door and say, “No drink water. Uh-oh.” Then I heard him fiddling with the handle of the toilet in the master bath. I poked my head out of the door, mid-straightening, and asked my ex to check up on our little monkey. Like every mother, I have a sixth sense when it comes to my child. I knew something bad was going down.
As soon as my ex yelled, “Gavin – no!” my fears were confirmed. Only I didn’t know just how bad it was. My ex appeared at the door to the guest bath, obviously trying to conceal laughter and not doing a very good job.
“What?” I asked impatiently.
“Do you want to know what your son was doing?”
I searched my ex’s face. I could tell I was not going to like what he had to say.
“Yes, tell me.”
“He was dunking your toothbrush in the toilet -”
I shrieked in horror.
“- and putting in his mouth afterward.”
Parenting is the hardest job in the entire world.