A Germ free Thoroughbred

Cleanliness may be next to something or other, but around this particular household, we aim to keep the germ count as low as possible. To achieve this goal, it is my habit to use 'Clorox loo blocks.' In America, I am given to understand that they also go by the unfortunate term 'toilet cakes.' I pop them cistern to help provide a sanitary conditions for those with bathroom challenges. Today I use blue sanitary blocks because they were cheaper, and my Scottish ancestry refuses to die.

Life in the modern age is full of conveniences to make this goal easier to achieve, sanitary conditions rather than penny pinching, that is to say.

Disposable wipes are now commonplace and flushable ones are available to clog up the environment at an ever faster pace.

Whilst my boys require far less assistance than they once did, but I am always careful to be on hand, ready for when my services are needed. I have purely selfish motivations, the dual goals to minimize the laundry and maintain cleanliness.

“I am need dah helping!” he bellows, even though I am leaning on the door jam at his side.
“Fair enough.” I take a step towards him.
“Why it is?” he squalks without reference to anything at all.
“Why is what dear?”
“Why it is blue?”
“Oh, the water is blue to kill any germs, keep it pure, now bend over so that I can clean your botty.” He flips up like an elastic band, “ooo you cannot be saying dat word. Dat is a potty word. Dat is a bad word.”
“Since when, I mean why is it a potty word? Who said it was a bad, er……rude word?”
“Well it be rhyme wiv potty.”
“Are all words that rhyme with 'potty' also bad words?” Who made him the head of the word police all of a sudden?
“Um…..no but 'bot UM” is dah foreign word. We do not be talking dah foreign, we be talking dah English.” Could have fooled me buddy!
“So what is the polite word? What do we use instead?” How can I learn, memorise and apply, an entirely new word for this part of one's anatomy, now that I am on a par with the ancient mariner in experience, if not quite in chronological age?
“Well,…..I fink dat dah nice peoples are be saying 'tush'!”
“Oh really. Well that's very good of you to let me know. Now who exactly are these nice people who have been correcting……helping you?”
“Oh I cannot be telling you dat.”
“Why not?”
“Because I bin bad.”
“You? Bad! Perish the thought. Never mind, you can tell me, I'm your mum remember.”
“Well I was bein dah ear wig. I was listen to dah girls words.”
“Which girls' words.”
“Dah girls in dah bathroom.” I am just debating how to tackle this new discovery in a tactful manner, when he lurches off on a tangent, as he startles again, “ooo you are dah bouncy!” I cannot identify any part of my ancient carcass with any degree of bounce or jiggle left.

“Where dear?”
“Der!” He points and then clasps the underside of my wrist. “Looky dere!”
“Oh that's my pulse,” I add unhelpfully, although proof of life.
“You are dah germ?”
“Pardon?”
“Um…..you are have dah germs in yur body?”
“Yes, everyone has a certain amount of germs in their body, but we have antibodies to kill them.” I realize what I have just said, out loud.
“You have dah germs and dah ants in yur body?” he asks with an air of incredulity which I share.
“Well……um……you see….”
“It is good den.”
“What is good dear?”
“Dat you have dah blue blood like dah toilet.”

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