According to a survey by the U.S. Dept. of Agriculture (agriculture?), it now costs approximately $204,000 to raise a child in the U.S. That number is up about 15% from the same study in 1960.
However, I postulate that the data are off in certain areas and that if we adjusted today’s costs to compensate, the number would be sharply higher than 15%. What am I talking about? I’m talking about poop (of course!).
Like many kids (hopefully), neither of my boys like to get their hands messy. This is especially true for MLI, who, as I’ve blogged about previously, is borderline OCD with certain things. He doesn’t like to get paint on his hands. At dinner, if he gets a sauce on the side of his arm, he freaks out. Even water causes him grief until both CareerMom and I have assured him that “Honey, water dries.”
So it should come as no surprise that when it comes to poop, the whole potty thing is a veritable colonostic Hiroshima just waiting to happen!
The problem is compounded even more by the fact that he has a small…um…colon (or something), thereby making it difficult for him to poop. So, we have to keep him on a small dose of laxative. Therefore, when he does go, it’s often messier than usual. To help prevent potty time meltdowns due to the mess factor, and so that one of us didn’t have to stand there with a wet washcloth, a long time ago CareerMom bought a box of “Kandoo.” They are billed as “moist” wipes for kids, and I suspect, based on their price, that the goal is to get the kid hooked on them now, so that they will forever eschew dry T.P. in favor of the overpriced moist towelettes for the hiney!
(Secretly, I kinda like them too, and I once remember seeing a comment on “Year of the Chick’s” blog about how we men (unsanitary trolls that we are), should all use them.)
Anyway, the things cost a friggin’ arm and a leg. Even the generic store brand ones get expensive when the kid sits in there after pooping and uses twenty at a time. CareerMom and I, both knowing this is going on, try to get in there to prevent such widespread abuse of the moist towellete, but we are usually met with a shrieking, “NOOOOOOoooooo” and a door slammed on our toes.
If anyone has an alternative, I’m all ears. I mean, that $15 a month on moist towelettes (I said “moist” four times *snicker*) could be diverted to his college fund, or my HDTV fund or something REALLY important like that!