A Whole Lot of Wiping

A trendy soap commercial claims its superiority in washing the human body and all two thousand of its parts. I don’t know where they came up with all those parts, but I DO know that however many parts there are, mothers are familiar with wiping all of them.

If you don’t think wiping parts is that big of a deal, you haven’t been in the business long. Mothers wipe runny noses and sticky fingers and messy bottoms and dirty faces. They wipe sand from belly buttons and blood from scraped knees. They wipe wax from ears and lint from between toes. They wipe on diaper rash ointment, lotion and sunscreen. They wipe off at least two thousand variations of chocolate, peanut butter, jelly and assorted condiments.

With wiping, one must begin with quality materials. Only the softest tissue, the sturdiest towelette or the plushest washcloth will do. Wiping is a skill that requires a light, but firm touch and a fine-tuned sense of timing. Licking your thumb and wiping your child’s face with it is frowned upon . . . especially in public.

Perhaps you think that perfecting the fine art of wiping is not worthy of your time and talents. If so, let me tell you about my friend, Ralene.

Last week, this sweet mother was prepared when her family’s beloved six-month-old puppy was hit and killed by a car in front of their home. Ralene had done her homework in the field of wiping. In their time of grief, her teenagers and toddlers had no confusion about whose heart and hands were qualified to share the hurt and wipe away their tears.