Last weekend at a girls’ basketball tournament, I found myself in a public restroom with my 12-year-old daughter and some other moms and pre-teens. I washed my hands and waved them under the paper towel dispenser to trigger the sensor.
Nothing.
Wave, wave.
Nothing.
Frantic jazz-hands wave.
Still nothing.
My daughter groaned.
“It’s not that kind, Mom,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Just pull.”