Oh. Okay. I'm with you now, kiddo.
"I'm glad, sweetie."
I slowly meandered down to the kitchen and debated breakfast ideas for myself. Oldest bundled up and headed out to the bus stop. Miracle of miracles, she closed the back door behind her.
Middle, meanwhile, informed me that Kimo had been waiting in her bedroom this morning when she woke up. Middle was delighted by this.
I was dicing potatoes for home fries when Middle piped up from where she sat, watching over her feline best bud as Kimo ate. "Mom, have you ever thought about brushing the kitties' teeth?"
My mind flashed back to our old vet in Darn-near-smack-dab-middle, Ohio, who had basically retired
|Full of sass.|
"Yes," I said, "our old vet back in Ohio once talked about cleaning Po's teeth, but he said he'd have to sedate her for that, so I never worried about it again."
This, of course, led to a discussion about what sedating meant.
"So it's like when I had my surgery," Youngest said, referencing her tonsillectomy.
"Exactly like that," I agreed.
Silence reigned for a few moments.
"I brushed Kimo's teeth with water. I used an old toothbrush, not one of my sisters', but an extra one, because we've got extras, and I brushed her teeth in my bed. She didn't mind."
I'm amazed my chin didn't hit the floor.
Middle delivered this so nonchalantly, too.
As if we needed more "evedence"...