I am...

Driving the car the other day, I hear from the backseat, “Mommy wipe.” The G-man just had a snack, so I figure he needs a wipe. I deftly whip one of out of the bag next to me, while cursing the city bus that feels the need to take up more than one lane, and expertly hand it to Mr. Clean in the back.

“Mommy wipe.”

“I just gave you a wipe. Do you need another one?”

“No, mommy wipe. Mommy take dis.”

Oh, he’s done with it. For some reason, he feels the need to give me things while I’m driving instead of just tossing them over his seat next to him like he would do anywhere else. So, I trustingly reach my arm back there again.

And…he wipes something on my hand.

Ew. It’s, well, I don’t know what it was. Booger? Leftover goo from his snack? Something found in the depths of his carseat, the bottom his shoe, the back of his mouth? Whatever it was, I suddenly had a moist blob on my finger. Mommy wipe indeed!

Maybe it wouldn't have been so gross if it was the first time. (Ok, no, it was still gross.) But in reality, he wipes everything on me - his nose, his mouth, his shoes. If he starts to eat something and changes his mind, he expects me to hold it, no matter what state of consumption it was in. Find a (dead) worm? Sure, mommy is the right place to go with that. Need bird poop cleaned off a swing? Why wait for a paper towel when mommy's hand is right there? I do, by the way, draw the line at that one even if it means making his highness wait a few more minutes.

And, so it continues: I’m a human napkin.

But that’s not my only role. Like a chameleon, I’m skilled at situation adaptation, morphing into anything at a moment’s notice.

When G-man feels the need to climb, I’m a playground. For snacks and meals, I’m chef and dining entertainment. At any out-of-home activity, I’m a pack mule, carting boy and gear wherever we go. I’m an elephant, train or bridge depending on his mood. I’m a magician that makes boo-boos better and white milk turn brown.

I am all things, at all times.

I am G-man’s mommy.