I can NOT be the only person on the planet who is fine with a little disorder and a few germs.
I don't care what April says.
This morning we were huddled around our tiny sink, each with a toothbrush hanging out of our mouths and a stick of deodorant coating our pits.
Secret for me, some stinky boy deodorant for Apes.
When I brush (which IS every day), I brush.
April didn't pay as much attention to her molars as I did, so she finished first.
She spit. And then held her hand under the faucet to collect some water.
Well, I was done and tired of waiting.
So I rinsed my toothbrush.
A tiny bit of my run off landed in April's cupped hand and she growled so loud you'da thought I'd gone through the closet and ripped everything off the hangers before throwing the clothes into mismatched piles on the floor.
"I WAS GOING TO RINSE MY MOUTH WITH THAT!!!"
"Oh. So? What's the big deal?"
Seriously. What the frig is the big deal?
She's such a drama queen.