Jesus loves his creation, and M loves routine

M went to bed at 7:15 last night, as he usually does, having read books in his bed for half an hour or so. He and I have been hauling topsoil around our yard in our wheelbarrows, so before he went to sleep he asked the following:
M: Daddy?
Daddy: Hey, buddy.
M: Jesus love dirt?
D: He sure does.

Bedtime had been hectic and painful because Susan and I had gotten our signals crossed and each thought the other had changed M's slightly poopy diaper before we went out to haul dirt. M has ultrasensitive cheeks and a couple hours with a little poop just destroys his skin. So bathtime turned into stand-in-the-tub-and-weep-in-pain time. But rash cream eased the soreness and we had crawled into his bed before I remembered toothbrushing. So we skipped it, and that was that. M went to sleep.

Until 10:45 pm, when he stood inside his closed door crying for mommy and daddy. We both went in and sat on our knees with him as he explained: "teeth brushing."

So we all went in to the bathroom with a flashlight (the overhead bulb hurt his eyes) and he put the toothpaste on his brush and scrubbed away.

M: All finished.
Susan: Do you want to go back to sleep, sweetie?
M: Yes, please.

So we trekked back to his room and he put his head on the pillow and closed his eyes, contented.

Until about 90 seconds later, when he sat up and started weeping.

M: Brush teeth (sniff)
Daddy: We just brushed your teeth, buddy.
M: Mommy and Daddy brush teeth (weep, weep, weep).

So we all three headed back to the bathroom with our flashlight and all three brushed our teeth together. As we all spit, M breathed a final sigh of relief and asked to go back to his 'oom.

He crawled into bed again and this time was out like a light.



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