The time had come for the six-year-old monkey to master the art of brushing ones teeth without help mostly because the time had come to drag the three-year-old to his room kicking and screaming.

“Mom, how much toothpaste do I use?”

“Less than the size of a pea, honey. . . HENRY! We don’t kick Mommy!”

Several minutes pass while mommy and the three-year-old battle over pajamas.  I almost completely forget about the other monkey until he wanders in holding a tube of toothpaste.

“Mom, what kind of pea do you mean? Like the kind you eat?” He pantomimes eating a pea with a fork. “Or the kind you spray?” Then he demonstrates what it would look like if he drenched the walls and ceiling in urine.

“The kind you eat, honey.”