There’s a part of the day I dread. The very thought of it sends me into a cold sweat. As the cursed hour hurtles ever nearer the pressure in my head starts to build, throbbing at my temples and clutching my stomach in a vice-like grip.

Toothbrush time.

There, I said it.

I hate toothbrush time. But not as much as my nearly 2 year old daughter.

Don’t get me wrong, it didn’t used to be this way. In the early days of The Toothbrush, Frog would positively welcome her spiky friend with open arms. She would gum and suck the minty paste and rub that brush all over the pearly white niblets in her mouth. Continue reading »