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When I was attempting to get seven-year-old Emma and six-year-old Riley to bed one evening, I realized that I could not find Riley. I had sent her to the bathroom to get her toothbrush, and she never returned. I walked into the bathroom and found her sitting on the closed toilet with tears running down her face.
Between sobs, she managed to choke out, "I just want ... to get the thing ... that holds the toothpaste ... and you can get out the last drops!"
Yes, my friends. My child is definitely the spawn of my husband, the King of Infomercials, for she was distraught that we do not (yet!) have a Touch and Brush.
