If, when you entered my house, you somehow missed the Sesame Street playmat (covered in crayons and water color paints) draped over my rustic Mexican pine coffee table, or the Dora the Explorer plastic figurines on the couch, or the box of wooden blocks strewn in the middle of the living room floor, or the baby-sized hot pink yoga mat laid out neatly across the floor (next to the blocks), or the 872 black and white framed snapshots of my stunningly beautiful child, you might come across the realization as you went to do your business in my bathroom that perhaps, and this is ONLY A GUESS HERE, a small child lives in my house.
This is what you would see, as you were about to sit down on the toilet.
Now many grown adults can pull off keeping a giant rubber duck in their bathroom. It's a water area, people. Ducks love water. Fish love water. Bathrooms and water-motifs go together. And you might be suspicious of the enormous mesh bag full of other squeaky, water-squirting, brightly colored things hanging from the towel bar. But the toilet paper. The toilet paper is the dead give-away. I don't know any adults who have a hard time with the TP.
Trust me, although it's kinda weird the way the TP looks at this juncture, it is VASTLY improved from the situation in which the TP found itself last week. Which was either a) strewn on the floor in a wad, or b) sitting in entire-roll form, inside the toilet bowl. Soaking up ALL THE WATER. Ever pick up a roll of completely drenched TP? That stuff is made to disintigrate in water. Ew. That's all I'm saying.