As you do in life, we sometimes rob Peter to pay Paul. Lessons learned. All I gotta say is, be prepared. On all accounts.
In our home, we have segregated bathrooms: one for the girls and one for the boy. It works. Occasionally I find myself in DH’s bathroom, but it’s still called Daddy’s bathroom—or rather Daddy’s toilet as they say in Ireland.
Oh, but, lest we forget, though I use only one, I still get to clean both bathrooms, equal opportunity or some cock*a*manie like that.
Anyhoo, three weeks ago we ran low on toilet paper. That sort of thing happens when you have a three- and a four-year-old learning the finer things in life, like taking care of business, thoroughly and hygienically.
The girls outnumber the boy, and add to that, the fact that the girls are in the house a greater percentage of the day, well, we took Daddy’s last roll of toilet paper. Just a small pilfering to tide us over until shopping day.
When DH came home, he quickly set off to the store for more TP—cause you know there’s very little that comes between his ‘business’ and the end of a long day.
Fast forward to this Friday. Groundhog day: ran out of TP, steal Daddy’s TP; restock later. Only ‘later’ came after DH came home, again. My plan had been to grocery shop after work, but I was needed to collect Babydoll from a friend’s house. DH had been asked to collect her, but something came up. I don’t ask questions…until now.
The girls had gone to bed and I began my rounds, tidying room to room, when I entered the living room. Looking up from his comfy recliner, DH paused quickly enough for his commercial break, but long enough to gruffly speak to me,
“What is with the shortage on toilet paper? Have I now inherited another responsibility?”
I said, “Excuse me?”
“Am I in charge of toilet paper now? Mine’s always being swiped.”
I was still reeling in his earlier question, “Another responsibility?”
“Um, like making your bed? No, I did that this morning before I went to work.”
“Like washing your clothes? No I’m pretty sure I did that too, this weekend.”
“I make your lunch. I make your dinner, both before I go to work. Ummmm…your responsibilities…?”
Taken aback, he sputters, “Honey, what I—”
No way. I was going to take neither prisoners nor excuses 'til I was finished.
“What responsibilities, exactly, are you we adding to?”
"Clean house? Um, no, I do that."
“Oh, right, you’re responsible to see if the television works. Responsible for checking the springs on your recliner?"
Another futile attempt to stop me.
“Granted you put the girls to bed, but when else would you see them?”
“You don’t even call ahead when you’re going to miss dinner, so WHAT exactly are you responsible for?"
"Just so we know, then we can add ‘Buy TP’ to that list!”
“I, um, uh, I was only joking?”