Aaron and I approach an available sink in the crowded airport bathroom, where the gentleman next to it is brushing his teeth. Aaron asks loudly, to nobody in particular, “Why is he brushing his teeth?”
It makes me smile, but nobody answers him. Everybody ignores everybody else, as is custom in the men’s room.
So he asks again. And he still doesn’t get an answer. He’s more direct with his third attempt. He makes eye contact with the man and asks, “Why are you brushing your teeth?”
The gentleman merely gives the child a foamy smile.
After a short pause, as if to warm up to the gentleman, Aaron says, “I brush my teeth at home.”
There’s another pause, as more wheels turn in Aaron’s head. Then, from a place of pure innocence and logic, “Do you live here?”