Jonathan Land

Product: Crest Kid's
Consumer: Linda Appleby

Linda Appleby is a woman in her early-to-mid 40s who I witnessed purchasing Crest Kid's Cavity Protection toothpaste at my local CVS pharmacy. I figured I'd start off this column with something light: Kid brushes teeth. Kid enamored with "SparkleFun" (bubblegum) flavor. Kid goes to sleep content with sparkly bubbles of innocent goodness emanating from the cherubic glow of his or her cheeks. Just like the Campbell's Soup kid. End of story. We have a winner and everyone feels good.

Unfortunately, I soon discovered that I was in for much more.

I tailed Appleby back to a middle-income apartment complex and set up my surveillance equipment on the roof of the building across the street. She put the toothpaste and her other toiletries away and began reading the arts section of the newspaper in her living room. I was trying to see where the child/children was/were, but there was not a moppet to be found. Not so much as a stuffed animal, a prominently displayed alphabet, or a stray crayon mark on a wall. I switched over to the infrared goggles. Nothing. Then I turned to the heat-detection unit, with which I picked up something crawling on all fours. It was clearly too agile to be an infant unless it was alien or possessed by the devil. Appleby seemed to be aware of its presence and unconcerned, so I concluded that it was a cat or two smaller animals in a conga line.

Whatever it was, it certainly was not a child. What was going on here? This person is light years away from the demographic for Crest Kid's. None of this made sense. I had to get in there. The child must be in a lead-lined crawlspace that my surveillance equipment couldn't penetrate, I thought. I must save the child. My report would be ruined because of my interference, but I couldn't allow this to go on any longer.

I noticed that Appleby was looking at movie times in the paper, and then she left her apartment. I took this opportunity to construct a zip line from my station over to the roof of her building, and then I rappelled down the wall and was able to get into her place through a window.

What sort of thing have I gotten myself into? Maybe she bought the toothpaste by mistake? From the dozens of quarter-filled Styrofoam coffee cups, the ashtrays filled with mountains of cigarette butts, and the quarter-filled Styrofoam coffee cups filled with cigarette butts, she clearly meant to pick up Crest Extra Whitening. But I also observed that she kept meticulous lists composed on stickies throughout the house. That cast doubt on my theory that the purchase was an accident.

I searched the apartment for caches, false floors, false walls, and false ceilings. Every drawer and cabinet was on the level, and her wardrobe wasn't a portal to Narnia. I came to the frightening conclusion that the toothpaste was, in fact, for Appleby herself.

Then I stood in her bathroom for 30 minutes trying to put myself in her place, to become her and understand why she would brush her teeth with a product that's not meant for her. I unscrewed the cap of the toothpaste and set it on the counter. I picked up her toothbrush and applied the Crest Kid's. It really was sparkly. For a split second I had a little burst of glee. I dismissed it as the novelty of seeing the product for the first time.

As I began brushing my teeth, the aroma and body of the toothpaste inundated my senses. Very pleasant, like a...comfort toothpaste. I've never been a big bubblegum guy, but this was a pleasant alternative to all the mint pastes on the market.

But I was still quite curious as to why a woman her age would consider buying this product in the first place. Did she have an aversion to mint flavor? Was she attempting to reclaim her lost innocence? Did she once have a child? Had she been one herself?

I sometimes wish I could just walk right up and ask people these things, but as a rule I must not interfere (unless I perceive it to be a life-or-death situation, as I did in this case). I must only observe the consumer's relationship with the product.

I repeated the tooth brushing process 11 more times. I definitely noticed the sparkles each time, and the constant exposure hadn't numbed me to the pleasure of the flavor. That's why she must like this, I thought. It's a constant good time. It's reliable, refreshing in a different sort of way, and it must give her a little kick when she's down (not while she's down).

I began to fear that Appleby might be coming home soon, so I affixed a weight to the bottom of the toothpaste tube to compensate for the amount of material I extracted. Luckily, Crest Kid's comes in the rigid type of upright container that makes it hard to tell how much is in it. Then I crawled out of her psyche and into the bathroom vent so I could see the action up close.

After she came home, she took a long, hot bath and inspected herself in the mirror for a while afterwards, frowning and wrinkling her brow. She put on some pajamas, and finally it was show time.

Her old container of Crest Kid's was almost empty, even with my conservative usage, but she refused to give up on it. This is not a frivolous woman. If she expects something, she gets it. She chose to lean it over the side of the sink and put all her weight on it instead of christening that tube's successor. As I mentioned earlier, the container Crest Kid's comes in can be deceptive due to its rigid construction but sometimes you just need to cut your losses and move on, unless the sense of having to work for something makes it more fulfilling even on such a mundane scale.

At last a tiny drop oozed forth, which she collected on her toothbrush. She mercifully then threw the tube away and began to brush.

After she was done, she turned the light off, and got into bed. I crawled through the vents to her bedroom and put on my infrared goggles to see her smiling face as she nodded off. Was this the same woman who had been disgustedly poking and prodding her naked body in the mirror minutes earlier? Pinching her stomach as if she could yank out the fat through some miracle of psychic surgery? No. This was little Linda Appleby nestled all snug in her bed, at peace with herself.

Appleby made a good call with this product. As I shimmied up the drainpipe to the roof, I realized: This column would end how I had hoped, after all! Thank you, Linda Appleby, and thank you, Crest Kid's.

See you in the stores!

Jonathan Land, Consumer Reporter