Dear Baby Wipes,
I'd seen you around, checked you out from a distance for years. I was never really that interested. To be honest, I wasn't at all attracted to you. You weren't my type. I wasn't ready to make the leap. I was still young and carefree, relatively clean of slime smeared on my person. But now all that's changed and I want to let you know exactly how I feel.
The first time I really noticed you I was changing a sticky black diaper in my student apartment, a new mom determined to keep my child impeccably clean even if I didn't have the time or energy to shower myself. There you sat like a blessing, moist, clean and ready when I needed you. When I pulled one of your cloths from the container, another was always there in its place, prepared to do even the nastiest job. You never ran out on me.
Some people think you're only for wiping butts, but I say to you "NO!" Long after all our bums are trained, you'll still be the one I turn to for sticky fingers in the car, hair styled with peanut butter at a highway rest stop, and goo stuck to the handle of the last working shopping cart at the grocery store.
Just yesterday I was dropping off some donations at Good Will when I noticed I'd forgotten to clean the inside of a plastic organizing caddy I was sending off to a better place. I clutched you lovingly from your basket between the front seats and pleaded with you to help wipe the caddy so some teenage girl could achieve her dream of having the perfect place to keep all her acne prevention products and bubblegum pink lipstick. You didn't let me down.
And so today I say to you my beloved baby wipes, long after the last child's boogie is smeared on the upholstery, long after the last Cheeto has been used as lip gloss, long after the last blowout has been blown, I will still need to carry a purse as big as a diaper bag to keep you close to me always. I thought the years would dim my love for you but in fact they have only made it grow stronger.