The mouthwash ritual is a sacred ceremony that Mommy and I perform every night since I turned 8-months-old when I procured my fourth tooth.
After flossing (my second favorite activity), I would sit on the bathroom counter with my feet in the sink, holding my big dinosaur cup over the faucet while Mommy turns on the water. It’s always a bonus whenever I can quickly move the cup away just so the water splashes on my feet. Delightful. Of course, Mommy immediately turns off the water and teases about my wet pants.
It’s a little game we play.
Mommy then opens a green bottle, letting the refreshing smell of mint swirl into my nostril. Ah, The Precious Mouthwash. Together, we would pour a very teeny, tiny amount of Mouthwash into her small cup.
Then we look into each other’s eyes for a few seconds, as if speaking in a silent language and say in harmony, “Cheers!” raising our cups for good luck.
“Spit it out, don’t drink it,” Mommy warns me every time.
As usual, I nod. But proceed to drink the water as fast as I could before she tears the cup away from me.
“Plat,” I would fake a spit and give her a big grin.
Mommy, on the other hand, takes a swig from her cup. For a few moments, the Mouthwash stays in her mouth, not going down nor coming out.
My hands vibrate as I place them on her cheeks, feeling every swish.
As if stuck in a wormhole, it bounces around, forming larger and larger bubbles until it overflows. “Haha!” I laughed as I popped the bubbles in her mouth. My favorite part!
Finally, Mommy decides to spit out the green, foamy liquid. I watch it sizzle down the drain—what a waste.
Mouthwash, like toothpaste, is meant to be swallowed.