As I’m trying to feed C, who slept too late and seems not hungry, Len is in the living room changing E’s diaper.
“I hate these wipes,” says Len. As do I: they are environmentally responsible, but the pouch they come in is persistently reluctant to give them up, leading to much shaking-of-pouch with one hand while you try to hold the boy’s bottom out of his poopy diaper with the other. And then when they do come free, they’re all stretched out like damp ribbons, which vastly increases the chance of cleaning said bottom with your bare hand.
“I know,” I say. “They are the worst wipes in the world.” Len accuses me of hyperbole, which is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. But at least we’re both amused by it.
“There is nothing worse, in the entire world, than these wipes,” he says.
After a pause, he adds, “Well, maybe the Republican party.”
“The situation in the Middle East,” I contribute.
We both chew on this.
“Slavery.”
Fine. But the wipes are really annoying.