“Honey!” I shout and immediately, I can hear a pair of big feet padding down the corridor to outside the bathroom door.
“Yeah,” my adoringly-cute-yet-sometimes-silly husband says.
“What is this?” I pull on the padlock next to the ridiculously thin one-ply toilet paper, letting him hear the “ching ching” sound. “And what are we? A truck-stop bathroom? What’s up with the one-ply roll? You know I like the three-ply.”
“Sorry, darling, they were all out of the other stuff. The padlock is to prevent the kids to taking the roll and use it as bowling ball. Blame the store, honey.”