Share Everything Except Your Toothbrush

It is my hope that the following incident has occurred in most homes. If not, the Stroupes will be permanently regarded as weird, grotesque, and socially unacceptable.

It involves the occasional sharing of toothbrushes within the family unit. First off, this phenomenon has occurred quite by accident in all Stroupe instances- or at least I hope so. The most recent occurred in the bathroom inhabited by my two oldest sons. The twelve-year-old Stroupe discovered by chance that his fifteen-year-old sibling had been using his toothbrush for quite some time.

Rightfully disgusted, this middle child of mine sprinted to the other side of the house to inform his parents that his health and general well-being had been permanently jeopardized. Unphased, the oldest son continued to brush with the “borrowed” object.

My mind raced back to a particular morning when I was eight years old or so when my mom discovered that she, my brother, and I were all sharing the same toothbrush. To this day I feel violated because I know for a fact that the cotton-pickin’ (or tooth picking) brush was mine.

It was one of those deals where each family member was assigned a color and you snapped your brush onto the handle and clicked the “on” button. Magical vibrations and sensational sensations ensued. Tooth brushing was glorious.

Until my mom flipped out that morning. I know good and well my color was yellow but both she and my brother claimed otherwise. And there in its little stand stood an unused and lonely blue toothbrush, begging to be noticed.

Mom snatched the yellow stick and sped toward the kitchen where she boiled a pot of water and dunked the poor fellow in it. She left to continue morning preparations but vowed to return.

I watched- yes, a watched pot will boil- and noticed within a few minutes that my little yellow friend was uncomfortable with his surroundings. He began to twist and his bristles bent over like palm trees in a hurricane. When he started emitting a foul odor, I figured it was time to inform Mom.

She gasped in horror when she arrived to the sight of our destroyed toothbrush. Melted and mangled beyond all recognition, he was deceased by the time she plucked him out of the pot with a pair of hot dog tongs. Secretly I was relieved. If I couldn’t have him, no one would.

The entire Stroupe family of yesteryear eventually recognized the ultimate humor of the situation within minutes. The modern day Stroupes were less amused and the parents- my wife and I- lectured three boys on the virtues of sanitation all the way to church that morning.

Share food, drinks, towels, and kisses when you must, but never ever share a toothbrush. By the way, don’t kiss dogs. Contrary to popular belief, a dog’s mouth has three to four times as much bacteria as a human one. So don’t share a toothbrush with a dog- or a cat, or a dung beetle, or any other animal.

And if you discover your toothbrush has inhabited the mouth of another, don’t leave it in boiling water for more than a few seconds. Unless you’re prepared to deposit it in the bottom of the garbage can, which incidentally, is roughly equal to the sanitation level of a dog’s mouth.