Grin and Grill on the Green

Starring Mr. Toothbrush

Across the green, swish-swish went the brush, bright and **clean**. "I’m Mr. Toothbrush," he chimed, bow tie crisp and **sheen**. He sniffed sweet clover, the grass cool and **green**.

A toasty smell curled by, like picnic dreams come **true**. "Hello!" said Mr. Hot Dog, hat tipped, ketchup bright **hue**. Mr. Toothbrush smiled, "Let’s chat about happy bites and **chew**."

Because they met, they planned a map for picnic **play**. "Balanced plates!" said the brush, "colors lead the **way**." "And after we munch, we brush—hooray, hooray!" said the **tray**.

A whoosh of wind flipped the map; berries rolled and **stained**. Time slipped away, and Mr. Hot Dog’s bun looked **pained**. He drooped, "Now kids will think I’m only sticky and **plain**."

So Brush said, "Fix first!" They rinsed with fountain **spray**. Pebbles pinned the map; new veggie sticks saved the **day**. They cleaned the mess together, and worries washed **away**.

But near noon, a twist—"Don’t brush me!" Hot Dog **pled**. "My sauces might slip, and my bun might soggy-**bed**." Brush thought, then planned a napkin shield for teeth-time **instead**.

"We brush our teeth, not you," said Brush, with nodding **grace**. "Add crunchy greens, and sometimes treats find their **place**." Kids cheered the Crunch-n-Brush Parade, smiles bright on each **face**.

After the fun, the map glowed dry, held firm by **stone**. "Balance and brush," sang Brush, as the clover softly **shone**. Mr. Hot Dog beamed; on the green, good choices felt like **home**.