Last week the boy asked me why he doesn’t have his own toothbrush cup on the sink. Daddy has his own, and the boy and I share one. A few months ago the boy knocked his off the sink and broke it. But I don’t want to make him feel bad, so I don’t remind him about it. I just pick up a plastic toothbrush cup at the store.
Every day for the last week, I find my toothbrush has been relocated to the new cup holder, with Connor’s toothbrush. It happens when I’m not looking, sort of like when someone is trying to make their frazzled and tired mommy believe that she is losing her mind.
Me: Do you keep moving my toothbrush to your cup?
Me: Why, I thought you wanted your own cup?
Connor: Because I like it in my cup.
Me: So then why did we need another toothbrush cup, when we had them both in the other one?
Connor: I don’t want them in that cup. I want them in my cup. I like putting your toothbrush in my cup.
Connor: I don’t know. I like them in that cup.
Yep, no control issues there. AND confirmation that my mind is still, mostly, in tact.