There are several materialistic things I am looking forward to this year. For starters, there’s the new Maxïmo Park album I’ve been waiting for since I saw them live three years ago. Then there are the next instalments of GTA, Max Payne and FIFA on the Xbox.
I’m also keenly anticipating The Amazing Spiderman, the Marvel Avengers and The Hobbit at the cinema as well as Euro 2012, the Olympics and the chance that Spurs may yet lift the FA Cup. But all of these pale into insignificance when compared with the thing I’m most desperate for.
The end of cleaning Xander’s bottom with cotton wool.
For those not in the know, it’s generally recommended by the midwives and baby books of this world that you hold off on using wipes for a couple of weeks.
This is because babies’ skin is so sensitive. Instead, new parents have the unenviable task of wiping the derrieres of their little bundles of joy with fiddly little pieces of cotton wool dipped in warm water.
It’s not that I’m squeamish about getting squelchy baby faecal matter all over my hands. I’m not particularly fussed by that. Don’t get me wrong; I have the same aversion to it that most sane people have. I probably won’t fancy eating chicken tikka anytime soon.
Nor do I have an issue with the texture of the cotton wool itself. It’s just such a faff, particularly at 4am when all you want to do is get back to sleep.
It makes changing time a gift that keeps on giving. To make matters worse, the otherwise excellent Bounty pack that new parents get given includes, you’ve guessed it, a nice big pack of good-quality baby wipes.
Our free sample of these wipes is currently sat on a shelf in the bathroom. I look at it longingly as I prepare for the Somme-like battle that is changing an understandably narked Xander and mournfully think of Jim Bowen’s classic line on Bullseye: “Look what you could have won.”
Yes, forget all the movies, videos, games and sporting events. The day that I can make the big move from cotton wool to baby wipes is my Holy Grail.