Goldfish and other guts

Here’s a very important exercise I need you to follow. Stand up and put your arms at your sides. Now lick one of your thumbs and put your arm back down. Take your wet thumb and stamp it on your leg wherever your arm is hanging. Somewhere on the side of your thigh near the top of your leg. Okay, so now you know the area I’m talking about.

I’ve been combing the mall and anywhere else I can find so I can scrutinize the upper thighs of moms with young children. Subtly, of course, as I don’t want them to get creeped out. You’re likely asking yourself what on earth is this nut doing, right?

I’m looking to see if I am the only mother who has the remnants of their day on their clothes, especially in that area. Am I the only one who has wiped mushy, wet, half-chewed Goldfish guts on her thigh? The only one who wipes drops of water, juice or milk on herself? Oh, settle down. I certainly don’t wipe everything on myself and I use napkins and Kleenex regularly, but what’s a mom to do when she has neither of those or anything that could suffice, and their toddler decides to give them said Goldfish guts?

Am I to frantically try to fling it from my hand so that it goes anywhere but my hand without regard to anyone else who might sit on the bench? I am way too thoughtful for that. Plus the guts would probably just land on my leg like gooey torpedo and then where would I be? Frantically kicking my leg in hopes of propelling the guts off me? I’m far too civilized for that.

So I guess I’ll either make sure I carry napkins with me all the time, or resign myself to dirty shorts. One problem, though. Kyle has noticed me do this and he decided the other day to wipe his grimy little mitts on my shorts. Maybe I’d better get on that napkin thing.