Last night, in a bid for TJ to let us brush his tooth (singular), I found myself jumping around the bathroom with my toothbrush in my mouth whilst attempting to write and perform the “let’s brush our teeth” song.
It’s come to this.
It did work as a good form of distraction while TJ’s Dad wielded the baby brush. And I don’t blame TJ for wondering why we’re shoving a bit of plastic in his mouth (although he does it himself every 15 seconds).
But it’s a new level of parenthood when you realise your one-year-old has turned you into a performing monkey.
Ten minutes later, TJ’s Dad is skidding across our laminate floor in his socks. This, we have found, is the only way to keep TJ happy as I get him dressed for bed.
On the up side, I reckon I can count the “let’s brush our teeth” song as my daily exercise.