So it's not Monday. But I already posted a picture of my perfect moment in December (go click over, I assure you it's worth the thirty seconds of your time) and Lori assures me that I can still submit my post for this month, because she's a good human being. Maybe this will guarantee me two perfect moments in January.
Of all of the things I am called to do these days, I hate supervising teeth-brushing the most. More than laundry, even: at least my laundry doesn't fight back, or claim that it's dying or that I'm mortally wounding it by giving it an extra thorough scrubbing.
And thanks to my husband, there are always dental hygiene products in our Christmas stockings. His grandfather was a doctor, and so soap and toothpaste and toothbrushes made regular appearances in his family stockings since he was a child; we've married that tradition with the "school supply" tradition that comes from my family, but somehow, the pencils never seem to elicit tears.
But I have to hand it to him: this year, he picked a winner.
When my son opened his stocking, and found a toothbrush that played "I Gotta Feeling" by the Black Eyed Peas, I rolled my eyes. A lot. It's true: I was a doubting Thomas.
Last night, I walked into the bathroom to find my six-year-old swaying his hips to "tonight's gonna be ... a good night ... yeah, tonight's gonna be ... a good, good night" and ... well, it wasn't long before I was dancing, too.
There we both were, he grinning open-mouthed into the mirror and then at me, swaying his hips, toothpaste-laced saliva dripping from his mouth, and me, pumping the air and dancing and singing. It was, in a word, perfect. And when the music finally stopped, he looked at me wisely, eyebrow arched, and said, "you know, mom, they made these toothbrushes so that parents could feel happier while kids brushed their teeth."
Moral of the story: dance more. It makes dental hygiene a little more fun.