We were getting ready today to go run errands. I asked Bryson to get dressed, brush his teeth and fix his crazy hair. He took off and got everything done without being asked again. (Maybe I should let the big brothers read this.) He came back to show me his teeth and how good he brushed.
Bryson: "See my teeth?"
Me: "They look good!"
Bryson: "I washed my hands too! Smell!"
This always scares me because I am scared of where they have been. It's a boy thing.
Me: "Mmmmm. They smell good."
I did notice they didn't quite smell like the Bath and Body Works soap in his bathroom, though. He must have noticed by the look on my face. Before I could ask he started to explain.
Bryson: "I washed them with mouth soap."
Me: "You washed your hands with toothpaste?!?"
Bryson: "No. Mouth soap."
Me: "You washed your hands with mouth wash?!? How did you get it open? Did you drink any?!? Where did you find it?!?"
Panic starts setting in. There for awhile the Poison Control Center was getting to know us a little too well.
Bryson: "No. With mouth. soap."
Me: "Do you mean the white bar soap that I wash your mouth out with when you say ugly words?"
I get it now. The Ivory soap that I leave next to the sink as a reminder to all the boys that came in a pack of 3. One for each of them.