Germs anyone?

I was trying to coax the head full of curls on my head with a multitude of product and a diffuser when Jonathan toddled into the bathroom. Through a series of grunts, whines, and signs I finally figured out that he wanted my toothbrush. Under normal circumstances I would keep my germs to myself, but the poor kid has had the most swollen gums and needs to gnaw on something 24 hours a day. He was a mess of drool and had a ring of bright orange ibuprofen around his little lips; I gave in and gave him the toothbrush. It then became…a teething object, a poker (to get momma’s behind), and an exploration utensil that made its way to the nasty part of the bathroom floor, you know, right where the toilet meets the tile. I then tried to patiently explain to a one and a half year old that Momma’s toothbrush doesn’t belong in the dark crevices of the bathroom floor. Of course he screamed. All of my frustration faded when he looked at me with crocodile tears in his eyes and wrapped his little arms around my neck…I am so in love.