I watch as he rushes down the hallway in the same pair of jeans he wore from the day before. He has the hoody on that I bought him; an Army green colored jacket that I have come to dislike - because he wears the thing nearly every day.
He races into the bathroom.
I hear him brushing his teeth.
"What are you doing?" I yell down the hallway.
"I'm brushing my teeth," he says through a mouthful of slobber and tooth paste - peeking his head around the corner of the bathroom door.
"Good," I say, amazed that he ran to do this without even being asked.
He emerges from the bathroom into the hallway and I say, "Why don't you brush your hair while you're at it, it's a mess."
He doesn't turn back to go find a brush, but runs in the other direction and screams back, "Yes ... but it doesn't stink."
"Is that why you brushed your teeth - because they stink," I yell after him.
"Yes," he screams, and he is gone in a flash, and I am certain, as I watch him vanish down the stairs that I see a swoon of dust chasing after him.
On the upside ... Stinky teeth, ratty hair, day old jeans and a hoody that I really should confiscate and donate to Goodwill, but don't because he loves the thing ... another proud moment. I am such a good mother.