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What DO they put in wet-wipes?

November 22, 2009

Not a thrilling subject for a first blog but… what the heck do they put in wet wipes?

Baby wipes - from

Wipe away the water crisis?

Those things could solve the world water crisis!

Let me start at the beginning.  It was a Monday – one of my favourite days of the week as it’s my day to look after my son.  Not that my wife and I are separated or anything like that – I’m just fortunate enough to have Monday’s off.  So my wife can work, it’s our ‘Daddy-Day-Care Day’.

Things were going great, we’d done some singing, lots of playing and were heading out to the park (this is my son and me – not my wife you understand, though she likes the park too).

Poor little man’s got a bit of a cold so a constant stream of luminous snot is snaking out of his nose.  The supply of toilet roll I’d come prepared with was long since exhausted and ‘snot boy’ was starting to scare the other kids… or at least their germ-phobic parents were anxiously tugging Freddie/Harry/Alfie (or some other ‘eee’ sounding name) away from him as he clambered up the slide towards them.

Resourcefully (I thought) I remembered I’d also readied a change of nappy and some associated nappy wipes in the bag (bitter experience had taught be the foolhardy nature of ever leaving the house without them).  Rummaging through my extremely manly flowery back-pack (it’s my wife’s but it’s practical ok?) and I emerged with a wet wipe.

A quick wipe, struggle, wipe, cry, wipe, shout, wipe, hissy-fit cycle later (I had to apologise for my hissy-fit) snot was removed and fun playing ensued.  Absent mindedly I tucked the offending snotty wet-wipe in my coat pocket.

It was some time later before I lived to regret that oh-so-simple action taken in haste.

My God!  I’m bleeding!

As we were trotting back from another outing later, to the shops, I could feel a little moisture just above my hip – almost exactly below my coat pocket.  I reached under my coat and my jumper was saturated.  What was going on?

Thoughts rushed through my head.  My God, was I bleeding?  Help!  I’m bleeding!  I feel faint… no, wait, blood’s warm… this is cold.  Christ, have I wet myself?  How embarassi… no wait, that’s warm too.  Just what the hell is going on?

Eventually I traced the source of the moisture back through my jumper to my coat and into my coat pocket.  I peeled open the pocket expecting to find an upturned tippy cup or the like – but the pocket was almost entirely empty.

Tucked away in the corner I found a slightly dehydrated rag of white tissue paper.   No – it was a former wet wipe.  A wipe so far from wet now – because it had depostited it’s entire reservoir of moisture into my coat, pocket and jumper.

My son was staring at me by now, with my jumper, coat and me in general in dissarray.  “Daddy, wet.” he helpfully if accurately commented – before running off laughing.

I looked at this tiny square of paper in disbelief.  I looked against at the wet patch still spreading through my jumper.  Could this miniature marvel or moistness really have carried that much wetness?

Yes.  Yes it could – hence my exclamation at the start: These things could solve the world water shortage.  I’m tempted to mail a box of the things to Comic Relief’s African aid effort.

2 Comments leave one →
  1. Samantha permalink
    November 27, 2009 1:27 pm

    Bless, you are a good husband though I send mine to the inlaws whenever I want anytime to myself and I am still married (just) 🙂


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