An ode to the wet wipe

If you think wet wipes are just for messy faces, allow us to open your eyes.

An ode to the wet wipe

The first time I encountered a conversation about wet wipes was when I was about halfway through my pregnancy with my twin girls, Stella and Violet. The discussion was on a Facebook mommy group, and the debate was fierce: Which brand was best, when to use them, whether to heat them... (Note: Don’t get any mommy group started on wipe warmers.)


I didn't understand it at the time, of course, but wet wipes are slippery slopes for parents.

They are not just reserved for the bottoms of your precious children, but for pretty much everything else that comes with sticky little ones. You start with a pack, then a case, and soon you have them in every bedroom, bathroom, kitchen, car and go-bag.

Tonight I was giving my nearly 5-year-old girls a bath—and I managed to use a wet wipe three times for three different reasons in 10 minutes. Sand on the floor from a tennis shoe? Wet wipe. Pink toothpaste explosion on the sink? Wet wipe. Runny nose? Wet wipe.

So, in honor of the wet wipe, my second favorite accessory, here are just a few times they have come to my rescue.

Removing the coffee stains from my jeans, shirt, and car after my kids’ school decided to install huge speed bumps in the parking lot with no warning.

Cleaning up after my kids decided the living room is the perfect place to do a watercolor art project. (As any mother knows, kids and water = recipe for destruction. ?)

Preparing sandy hands for a pretzel break five minutes after getting to the beach and midway through a sand castle.

Pseudo-sanitizing hands and miscellaneous surfaces during a trip to Disneyland where sticky little hands continually journeyed from rail to cotton candy to mouth.

Reviving my car and the car seats from multiple milk spills. (Why can’t someone invent a spill proof bottle–why?)

De-sanding little toes and feet after a trip to the park. (Yes, that’s my second sand mention. I could list at least 10.)

Salvaging once white walls from the marker and crayon art by your budding Picasso.

Dusting surfaces quickly and discreetly when someone makes an unannounced visit to your children’s play zone, i.e. your entire house.

Wiping down toys after a playdate when said playdate shows up with a runny nose and cough.

Removing eye makeup after you force yourself on a date night to remind yourself why you’re married. (It works by the way... Having date nights to remember why you said yes.)

I can go on. I'm sure you can too. The wet wipe has become an essential part of me being a parent who tries to let my kids be kids.

Whatever the mess, wherever the mess, a wet wipe will usually get me 90 percent closer to status quo—which is never 100 percent to begin.

So whichever kind you use—Kirkland brand for me, if you must know—hold up a wipe in solidarity.

We are the parents who allow and embrace the mess. We are ready for it. Thank you, wet wipe.

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