My Reign As Queen Buttwiper Is Over
Last week there was a day to crack open the champagne, or um, sparkling water mixed with grape juice. A day to sit back and revel in my glorious accomplishments.
Because last week, Number 5 wiped his own butt. He did it successfully and with much aplomb.
So I am gladly giving up my reign as Queen Buttwiper of the Tirabassi household, the Protector of the People from Poop and Efficient Paper User Extraordinaire.
After 4,811 days of arse wiping, no longer will I be on call 24/7 to rescue a toddler from a dirty butt.
No more will I tell someone to take the position; to reach over and touch their toes while sticking their derrière into the air as I adroitly swipe from front to back. Often multiple times per day.
Gone are my days of examining the poop in the bowl for signs of sickness or the Lego piece that went in the mouth but didn’t come out.
My days of singing, “What does the kid say? Wipe me, wipe me, wipe my butt,” are at an end.
Yes, folks and wee subjects, I am willingly laying down my plunger scepter and putting aside my crown of toilet paper.
I am ready to take on new challenges: like getting Number 1 to wear deodorant regularly. Noble Queen of the Armpits, your day is upon us!