I cycled the little guy through the shower... him crying or whining the whole time. We managed to get his jammies on and say prayers with some degree of reverence. The final step was teeth brushing. He drug his feet and complained. I had totally had it by this point, this is not my proudest parenting moment... so be warned.... I stomped into the bathroom. "At least when your crying, your mouth is open. Now I can brush your teeth myself." I loaded the tooth brush with toothpaste and commenced scrubbing each little tooth until it shined. Sure his resistance escalated a bit from the previous whininess to a more urgent panic... but let's face it...he'd alternated between whining, crying and foot stomping for the last 45 minutes. I paid him no mind... I had a job to do. This little person was too exhausted for his own good. This little boy needed bed STAT. So I helped him rinse his mouth and explained that if he could talk without whining or throwing a tantrum, I'd love to hear what he had to say.
"That's my sister's toothbrush." He said.
Well there ya go... here's your lesson. If you whine and stomp your feet about every little routine thing, the rest of us don't know when you have a valid complaint.