Spectator Sport

I know how difficult it is to get a child / toddler to wash their hands and that's something we've been lucky with. Drew likes to stand on her little step, get the soap and rub her little hands together, before drying them (not very well) on the towel. Ah! Bless her little OCD ways she's probably inherited from her parents!

So, picture this...

This morning, I go for a number one. I'm quickly followed by Drew who sees it as a chance to wash her hands - again. So there I am, sitting quite innocently 'doing my thang', Drew balancing on her Fifi step, washing her hands. In saunters Barney as if we were expecting him and he starts to lick my legs, glancing up at me every now and again with his sad puppydog eyes. In the background, I hear Harriet begin to cry out in her 'I'm 4 weeks old...how dare you leave me and go to the toilet - scream'. I turn to get some toilet paper and guess what? Yep...one sheet left. Who does that??? At that same moment, I notice Drew has turned her attention to the toilet brush. As I'm trying to explain in the most simplest way that this brush is not that great for brushing her hair, the doorbell goes and Barney, who was concentrating on covering every part of my leg with warm Barney saliva, pushes open the toilet door and runs straight to the front door to welcome our unknown visitor with a very loud and very annoying bark.

With that, Drew needed to see what all the fuss was about and with her hands all washed and cleaned, her hair brushed (of sorts), she quickly follows him out of the door, forgetting she is stood on her Fifi step.

So, down goes Drew and the tears start. I now have Barney barking, Drew crying, unable to get up, Harriet crying in the living room, someone at the door and the situation has been made a million times worse because SOMEONE couldn't be bothered to put a new toilet roll on the holder!!!! Do they think the toilet roll fairy does it???

So, chaps...you all know you do it. If there was ever the motivation needed to complete this simple little chore, PLEASE don't ignore it. Don't leave 1 or 2 sheets for the next visitor to the toilet...you never know...next time it could be YOU!!

Oh and incase you're wondering...I never got to answer the door. A tennis ball was promptly used to stem the volume from the dog. Drew calmed down enough to tell me she had a 'baddie' and felt much better hitting her Fifi step and telling it off. And me? Well, I only just made it up the stairs with my jeans round my ankles.

And Jerry calls this a life of luxury...let me at 'im!!!&*£$%!**!!