DAILY SNACK
“Mommy, I washed my hands with the soap from the front door.”
“The soap from the font door?”
“Yes. And I used it all and then I dried my hands on this towel.”
And then it hits. The overwhelming scent of an entire bottle of Purell wafts up the stairs and into the bathroom.
“Oh. Um . . . okay, let’s rinse those hands off again.”
And somebody open a window.