The Allure of Wipes

I have not yet figured out why my girls insist on playing with baby wipes. I mean, don't they know how much they cost? Can't they use a towel, napkin or other object used for wiping? Of course not. That would make my life easier.

I was trying to work in my office which is only five feet from my bedroom door. And by working I mean trying to enjoy stimulating topics on line for me to keep my atrophying mind as sharp as possible. My mind is weakening so that I often forget that when I hear my girls singing a happy tune in harmony or when I simply witness silence, it means that they are creating some kind of destruction.

This day was no different. I was so ecstatic that I was getting 45 minutes of uninterrupted mental stimulation, I mistook their sweet humming for bliss. Actually it was bliss - for them. They had gotten into the box of wipes (with shea butter, no less) and proceeded to help me clean my room. They took to the lamps, the bed, the dresser, the armoire, the mirrors, the TV - you name it, they wiped it. How do I know this? Aside from the film that covered every above-mentioned item, there were about 50 to 60 crumpled up wipes that littered by bedroom floor.

When I walked in on this discovery, my instant reaction was, of course, to yell. As I started to raise my voice, Maura innocently says, "But Mommy, we were just helping."

I stopped yelling and realized once again, I will miss that nomination for the mother of the year award.