Just about every night about the time that I a quickly fading away into a drool on my pillow state, I decide I should wash my face and brush my teeth, so as to hygienate myself in an appropriate manner (do you like my new word?).
A least every other night I ask husband if he wants to brush my teeth for me.
He has always politely declined. I always have the most polite reply of sticking my tongue out at him.
Last night the routine, and I dare say my life, changed.
He was brushing his teeth, and I said, "Can I help you?" and he said..nod nod. So I got off the couch, and proceeded to brush my husbands teeth. Getting my fat hands in that little mouth was a little difficult. I think next time I will have him sit on a stool because I will be able to reach the back better.
Then....
I put toothpaste on my beautiful green toothbrush, handed it to him, opened my very large pie-hole, and....HE BRUSHED MY VERY OWN TEETH! He missed the back completely, so I had to fix it for him, but I hurried and fixed it while he wasn't looking....well he was looking, but I couldn't have fuzzy back teeth in the morning.
I quickly became glad that we live in a basement apartment where no one walks by our one window. How odd would it bee to walk by a window, look in, and see two grown people brushing eachother's teeth. Not odd, I argue, INSPIRING.