I know so well…
The baby is going through The Teething, Act II. Which means she’s not sleeping. Or sleeping very lightly. Which means that the Mrs. is sleeping for about an hour at a time, most of the time, and the most I can hope for is four hours a night. Which means that we’re all a little fuzzy here.
And I’m always a little fuzzy at three in the morning.
So, she’s crying. And I know I have to give her the medicine for her gums, the pain itself and then change her diaper and put her back into the crib and hope and pray to God that she sleeps for the rest of the morning. She won’t. But God has been known to have mercy on the most destitute.
I take out the Infant Tylenol. It’s administered in a droplet and tastes like cherry. She’s never had cherry before, but she likes the flavor. She guzzles it like a toddler eating Flintstone vitamins, like a car needing gas, with just a wee bit of seepage spilling out. And then I rub in the Baby Orajel. She doesn’t so much resist it this time. She tends to suck at it and relinquish it of its powers, but I’ve generally gotten better at getting it into her before she overcomes it.
Unfortunately, now I’ve got both of the medicines on my hands and I’ve already placed her down on the changing pad. I can’t leave her to go to the bathroom and wash it off. And then I frantically search in my mind for a solution.
And I think, “Gosh, if only there were something in the baby room that is portable and wet that I could wipe my hands with. Kind of like tissue, but a little more durable. Something that would be delicate enough for my hands or a baby’s behind. It would be preferable if it were white, so I could see in the dark. I need something to wipe my hands with in this here baby room.”
Someone should invent this product. I for one would buy it.