Brush, Rinse, Repeat

I don’t think Chip is alone when it comes to tooth brushing troubles. Like most toddlers, he has a love-hate relationship with the tooth brushing routine. He loves the toothpaste part which is some hard-to-know-which-fruit scented and the tooth brush is sucked dry of the said toothpaste every time and lips dutifully smacked afterwards. He hates the tooth brush part. We have tried all sorts of tooth brushes. Brushes that light up and sing a little tune after 2 minutes of brushing. Brushes with little Einsteins, with Pooh, with Elmo, with unknown generic cartoon characters. Grown up looking brushes in solid colors. Their fate has been the same. All disdained and chewed until death.

Since devious toothbrush marketing techniques were not working, I turned to facts. “Chip”, I said to him one day, “There are germs in your teeth, if we don’t take them out, they will go in your tummy and will give you a tummy ache.” It seemed to work. Tooth brushing that night and the next few nights was no struggle. Until one day. “Aie, germs in Chip’s mouth will give me tummy ache.” “That’s right, Chip.” “Will I have constipation?” “Yes, Chip.” A little explanation here. Chip is well, umm.. let’s call him anal retentive in a physical way. If he drinks more than three cups of milk, there is trouble. “Ok Aie. Let’s rinse now. No brushing.” “Why?” “Because” he explained patiently to his obviously dumb mother. “If you drink too much milk you get a tummy ache.” Huh?? Apparently, Chip had it all down with the impeccable toddler logic. Tummy ache = constipation = too much milk. There is no other way to get tummy aches.

Plan B. “Chip, you think I am lying about the germs? Come here look.” I pointed to a wisp of my hair in the washbasin. “That came out of your mouth. Chip was aghast. “Black germs?” “Not just black Chip. They come in all colors.” “Purple germs? Blue germs?” “Yes. Open your mouth. Oh my! I see a big green one there. Spit it out.” Two year olds can be so gullible. Chip was convinced about all the germs coming out of his mouth. This technique worked for quite a long time. Meaning a little more than a month. Each night we spat out germs in Technicolor. And in all shapes. Purple rectangle germs – the most deadly, followed by green circle germs that lived in the molars and the red ones that took a long time to come out from their incisor lair. Until one day. “All done Aie.” We had barely started to brush. “Turn on the brush Aie.” “Your brush doesn’t turn on.” “Aie’s brush turns on?” “Yes, Aie’s brush turns on, Baba’s brush turns on, but not yours.” “Nooooooo! I want Chip’s brush turn on.” “OK. Here it is.” I turned the brush on and made whirring sounds. “No. Aie, not with your mouth. With the brush.” Chip sat there perched on the bathroom counter waiting expectantly for his god-like mother to perform the miracle.

Plan C. “Chip,” I said in a low whisper. “We will have to go to the dentist if you don’t brush your teeth.” A dentist?” “Yes. A dentist is a doctor for teeth.” Chip was intrigued. “Does he give tooch (shots)?” “Big tooch Chip. The needles are this long.” I said stretching my arms as wide as I could. “And it is not just the tooch. He also has a drill. He will drill your teeth. Do you want the dentist to drill your teeth?” Chip shook his head and opened his mouth. Brushed and rinsed. Chip got down from his perch. “Aie, is dentist drill like Baba’s?” The drill strategy worked for a while. Although he now looked at his Baba’s drill differently. Intently. Almost as if imagining the thing drilling holes in his teeth. The evil mom conscience had tripped the good mom conscience and I didn’t tell him the true drill facts and still haven’t. This worked for a while. Until one day. He just lost interest in the drill theory. The threats were treated with a bored look and I suspected if he knew the word ‘whatever’ he would have said it now. Many times.

Plan D. Well it was not really a plan. But I gotta do it to maintain narrative integrity. BigGeek on his way home yesterday stopped at a pharmacy to buy some vaporub for my cold and also bought a battery operated toothbrush for Chip. To say Chip was excited would be the understatement of the century. He danced with it until he realized the cover needed to be pulled off. The brush was promptly handed back to Aie dearest, but only for the few seconds that it took to free the brush from the casing. He garbbed the coveted toothbrush and gingerly pressed on the green button. The brush started whirring. Chip looked at it mesmerized. “Let’s go and brush my teeth, Aie” “Yes we will! But after dinner. Let’s eat dinner first. Yes?” “NOOOOOO” He wailed and thumped his feet. “Turn off the brush Chip. The battery will die.” “I want to brush my teeth now.” “Yes we will brush your teeth. But after dinner. Come let’s eat dinner.” This went on for a few minutes. Each iteration escalating Chip’s temper until BigGeek grabbed the toothbrush and turned it off.

Later, after tantrum, tears and dinner were done with, we went upstairs for the much waited moment. Finally. The toothpaste was smeared on the brush, the little green button pressed. Chip gleefully opened his mouth and brushed. Not his teeth, but his tongue. I tried to get a few swipes but then left him to enjoy his brush. A few minutes later, he came out asked me to turn off the toothbrush and went inside again. I heard him turn the light off and close the door and he came out again, but in haste and jumped into the bed and dived under the comforter taking care to make sure he was covered in it. Something was up. “What is in your hand Chip?” I asked. “Nothing Aie. Don’t look here. Look there.” As if. I peered under the comforter and lying there snuggled in his arms like his favorite soft toy was the orange and green toothbrush. I now need a Plan E.

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On a completely unrelated note, my good friend and neighbor your-girl-next-door (formerly known as V) has decided to start writing a blog. Welcome to the blogworld YGND.