Thelma claimed recently that I'm "just as lackadaisical" as she is when it comes to ensuring our children have good oral hygiene.
Phooey!
On a scale of 1 to 100, where 1 is lackadaisical and 100 is totally enthusidaisical, Thelma is a 4. I'm a 7, easy. Seven and a half, probably. That's almost twice the enthusidaisitude, which of course means I only need to worry about my kids brushing their teeth half as often as Thelma.
(I know. Enthusidaisical is not technically a word. Yet.)
Besides, I don't even like teeth. I mean, I like the purpose they serve. No one wants to gum a steak or drink a margarita pizza through a straw. But teeth are a source of physical and emotional pain.
There. I said it. My teeth hurt my feelings sometimes. They have no sense of propriety. No self restraint. They just pop out one day and shove other teeth around in the process. One day you're a cute little kid. The next day you're a freak of nature with two ivory dominoes jutting out below your lip. And it's not as though they're going to go away any time soon. You're stuck with them and you're stuck looking awkward.
It's like a skinny seven-year-old kid showing up at school one day wearing his fat uncle Leo's hip waiters. They don't fit. They don't look natural. They don't look good. They won't look good until the kid starts to look like Leo.
How did the dentist put it?
"Don't worry. You'll grow into your teeth."
Boy. That sure put me at ease. Why didn't he just ride the school bus and call me Bucky Mormon with all of the other kids?
So, I figure I'm doing pretty well to muster up 7% effort. I have demons to deal with.
Phooey!
On a scale of 1 to 100, where 1 is lackadaisical and 100 is totally enthusidaisical, Thelma is a 4. I'm a 7, easy. Seven and a half, probably. That's almost twice the enthusidaisitude, which of course means I only need to worry about my kids brushing their teeth half as often as Thelma.
(I know. Enthusidaisical is not technically a word. Yet.)
Besides, I don't even like teeth. I mean, I like the purpose they serve. No one wants to gum a steak or drink a margarita pizza through a straw. But teeth are a source of physical and emotional pain.
There. I said it. My teeth hurt my feelings sometimes. They have no sense of propriety. No self restraint. They just pop out one day and shove other teeth around in the process. One day you're a cute little kid. The next day you're a freak of nature with two ivory dominoes jutting out below your lip. And it's not as though they're going to go away any time soon. You're stuck with them and you're stuck looking awkward.
It's like a skinny seven-year-old kid showing up at school one day wearing his fat uncle Leo's hip waiters. They don't fit. They don't look natural. They don't look good. They won't look good until the kid starts to look like Leo.
How did the dentist put it?
"Don't worry. You'll grow into your teeth."
Boy. That sure put me at ease. Why didn't he just ride the school bus and call me Bucky Mormon with all of the other kids?
So, I figure I'm doing pretty well to muster up 7% effort. I have demons to deal with.
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By the way. I think that someone should print out your handy Disneyland tip list and take it to Disneyland. It is great.