Bleaching your kids right and wrong

There are a group of parents standing around my niece's sandbox, discussing its merits. Some claim that it’s a fun way to entertain children, while others claim that it’s a novelty that gets tired of too quickly. Being the only single person around, I couldn’t care less about the topic of sand vs. no sand, but I still listen.

“These things are a breeding ground for bacteria,” says one of the parents. “When the sand gets wet and it’s covered, the sun bakes the sand...”

“Bleach,” I say.

The other six look at me.

“What did you say?” asks another parent.

“Bleach,” I reiterate. “Just throw some bleach in the sand.” I swing my arm to the side, my third glass of wine swishing around.

“Um… we never thought of that.” Looks of horror are registered in their faces.

“Think about it. Bleach disinfects everything, right?” I say, trying to sound nonchalant and sober. “Splash in a little bit of bleach into the sand and you’ll have no problem with germs.” I didn’t mention that their dirty kids would probably be disinfected, as well.

Of course, no parent would consider such a simple - if radical - solution to maintaining grubby little hands free from germs.

Using bleach is a part of my cleaning fetish. It comes in especially handy for my fluffy white towels and crisp white linens. And, now that it comes in different scents (the lemon version eliminates the urea-based whiff of regular Chlorox), I’m almost orgasmic.

If/when I have children, I’ll let them play outside all day if they want. When they come indoors, that’s anther matter. If I have to powerwash the crud off them, then I will. My kids will be spotless - like my home - 'cause daddy don’t do dirty.