I looked at the knife. “Damned, can I be bothered to hand-wash it? Nope.” Sliding the knife against a finger to remove all residue, I then spread butter on his toast. Lastly, I washed my hands.
I smiled sweetly and handed the buttered toast to my son. He wouldn’t notice, surely?
Silence, then… “MUM! You put Marmite on my toast, I know you did…”