A Big Ol’ Softie, After All

Here’s a wild confession:
Although I can’t even imagine poking my finger through the face of the Cottonelle puppy when opening a new four-pack of toilet paper*, I have absolutely no problem jabbing my finger through the face of the Charmin baby.
*This is a big step for me. I detest the words “toilet paper” (together, not separately, although I’m not crazy about “toilet” … “paper”, however, causes no trauma), but am gradually learning how to introduce it into polite conversation without suffering a grand mal seizure. Although I am not crazy about “toilet paper” (the words, not the actual item), I will not relieve myself of saying it by substituting “toilet tissue”, “T.P.”, or “shit tickets”, the last of which makes me cringe so thoroughly that my bones shatter upon the mere mention.