you just hold the toothbrush

Dear Gray bear - here is something from tonight I didn't want to forget to share with you when you're all grown up:

I blew bubbles with you in the bathtub for a half hour, but then when I said it was time to let the water out, you balked. You came up with the idea to pretend I was the kid and you were the dad so you could be in charge of everything. After a minute of this, you decided that you would be God now and I'd be Jesus, and you'd tell me what to do and generally make it rain on the earth a lot. Eventually I convinced you to get out of the tub but by now, as God, you had developed a thick southern accent and suggested I feature the same as your son Jesus. You happily put on your pajamas, describing them as your work clothes.  You paused "the game" to try and make out if the truck on the back side of your underwear was a cement truck or a dump truck.  Possibly inspired by the design of your PJ's, you informed me that as God and Jesus we would now be going into outer space on our rocket ships. You needed your zebra stripe sunglasses to protect your eyes but preferred to wear them on the top of your head. Then I convinced you to brush your teeth and you said, "Hey Jesus, I can put my own toothpaste on there. You just hold the toothbrush." Then you marched off to read stories on your bed, oops I mean rocket ship. (The stories were David & Goliath, an excerpt on Bill and Ben from your Thomas the Train book, and a few pages in a coloring book about Lady and the Tramp).