The Touch

As usual, my nose was assaulted first. She squirmed in my grasp, as I suspended her in the air. “Stay still!” Speaking out loud caused the need to breathe in more air. Mistake. My face wrinkled with the punishment.

My fingers hurried. Wipe. Wipe. Wipe. AHHHHHH OMG I touched it! It’s on my hand! I snatched a new baby wipe from the container and attempted to wipe it off. That won’t help much. It’s absorbed quickly into the skin. I finished cleaning the baby bottom and slid her into new training pants, avoiding the pesky part of my soiled hand.

I ran for the sink and roughly scrubbed. I dumped more soap on my palms and scrubbed again. Sniffing the affected area, my lip curled. Hot water and dish soap were added to the mixture. I held my hand to my face again and inhaled. Whew. Crisis averted. I didn’t have to walk around smelling like butt all day. Life is good.

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