Brushing Teeth

January 18th and on our way to the bathroom.  It's 7pm.  Same routine as always.  Kyrah runs into the bathroom and says:

"Brush teeth!  Brush teeth, mama!"   (Honestly, I don't know where she came up with the idea of calling me "mama."  She's always called my mom or mommy in the past.  Oh, well, it's cute anyway.)

I plop her up on the counter and reach for the beloved pink, princess toothbrush and the jungle animal toothpaste.  Here is the exchange between mother and daughter:

Me:  "Open wide."

Kryah:  "A-h-h-h"

Me: "Let's brush your tongue.  Good job!  Now lets get inside.  On the on the bottom.  Now teeth!"

Kyrah:  * Huge big smile, showing her pearly whites. *

Me:  "Oh, such pretty white teeth you have!"

Kyrah:  "Oh, pretty brown teeth mama, pretty brown teeth."  (As she points to her mouth full of toothpaste.)

Me: "What?  No, your teeth are white sweetie."

Kyrah:  "Oh, white teeth?  No brown teeth mama?"

Me: "No brown teeth, Kyrah."

It's silly moments like this that I cherish being a mom.