J is in charge of most bedtime routines, whether this entails baths or brushing teeth. I’ve tried before, but frankly he’s just better at it. I’m fine with this, as it usually means I get to sit down for a minute.
A very quick minute.
The boys have Power Ranger style electric toothbrushes that stand on a shelf by their base. There is a specific area in the medicine cabinet meant just for these toothbrushes. On the end, past their water cup. This isn’t new. It’s the same spot as it’s always been.
For some reason, however, J can never put them back where they belong. Instead of saving me the aggravation, he finds it easier to place these toothbrushes in the middle of the shelf. Before the cup. Cluttering our various other bottles and sundries in the process.
Every day, I take an extra few seconds to reorganize and replace these toothbrushes to their proper home. Every night, he moves them back. Every morning, I huff and sigh and curse him under my breath.
“Why can’t you put the toothbrushes back right?”, I ask.
“I do put them back right”, he says.
We’ve gone around and around. He’s set in his way and I want to stab bristles in his eyes. If a few misplaced toothbrushes (and maybe some stray socks) are all I have to complain about after almost 12 years, though, then we must be doing something right.