Once in a while, when I want to keep my hands clean, I use my elbow.
Case in point: I didn't want to flush the toilet this afternoon because Liam was taking his afternoon nap. And he's a light sleeper. So, I didn't flush. I'm sure I'm not the only mama who's done this to preserve some free time.
Then later, when he was awake, I remembered that I ought to flush, but I didn't feel like getting my hands dirty by touching the toilet handle. So my hands volunteered my right elbow.
Now, normally, my right elbow obliges. Perhaps this is because he's often in a jovial mood (if an elbow fellow can be in such a state) because....well, "elbow" was one of the first words I ever said as a baby, apparently. So, clearly, my elbow has a very high impression of himself. I guess he made quite an impression on me from the get-go.
And yes, I'm only talking about the right one. And yes, apparently my elbow is a he. (I hadn't realized this either, until this moment.)
But today, my normally helpful, easy-going elbow refused the suggestion of my clean hands. This rebellion surprised my whole body. As I reached my arm toward the toilet handle, my elbow jerked my arm back with dissension.
Why was this? I pondered. And then I pondered some more. I tried again. But sure enough, my elbow would have none of it. That bowl was only going to flush if my hands stepped up to the plate, did what they were supposed to, and then got washed. Hmm.
Later, when I was changing Liam's diaper, it dawned on me. Our grabby son now pulls my forearm down toward his face when I am changing him, and his mouth ferociously brings my elbow into it. Every day, every time, my elbow gets a wet, slobbery baby mouth on it. The surprise of a wet elbow sends happy giggles through my entire being, and a moment later, my son is giggling, too.
So here's to keeping clean elbows! Who knew mine were so tasty. :)
