Moistened bint

I love the language peculiarities that mark us as from a certain place and a certain time. My brother says “silver bells” instead of “Hershey’s Kisses” which is a holdover from Dad’s vocabulary. He doesn’t realize that he collects these phrases, but I do. I relish them.

Mom says “lavatory” instead of “sink.”  Could be crossword puzzle-itis.  She just said it to me the other day, telling me the things she cleaned in my house while I was taking care of sick kiddos.

You can mark Jim and I as older parents by what we call “baby wipes.” You know what those are, right? Wet napkins that our society apparently purchases by the caseload to wipe up all sorts of … accidents, baby-related and not.

In a rush, I will ask for a “Wet One” instead of a baby wipe which predates the current moist towelette phenomenon by about 20 years.

And Jim will ask for a “Wet Nap” which may be either a sign of his generation or his compulsion to collect any and all travel-size amenities.

In any event, the wreck gets wiped, the unclean become sanitized, and nobody lobs a scimitar in the process!