Marie, dropping her ice cream onto the table, went "Oh my god." In English.
I just about taught her the additional phrase "What the fuck?" but was too busy giggling.
After my very passionate speech about voting and the democratic process (I do this speech every time we vote, which in Belgium is about once a year), she said: "I'm going to choose that I become the boss."
Maybe I missed out a couple of vital parts of the explanation there.
Also, she's still convinced that she'll grow a penis someday soon, even though I keep telling her she won't. She is disappointed every time. She has accepted breasts as a consolation prize.
I don't know how I ever managed without wet wipes. I can't remember the first time I used them myself. Maybe I ran out of toilet paper and had some handy. Maybe I just thought "what if" and that was that. Life was never the same again. And not just to get stains out of clothes (works a treat), wipe dried snot off faces, remove dog poo from shoes, or clean anything sticky. I have to have some next to the toilet now.
Whenever I go to a bathroom somewhere else and foolishly forget to take my handbag with its supply of wipes, I hope no number two will be forthcoming. The few times my prayers were not heard and I was reduced to the use of prehistoric dry bog roll, I actually got the toilet blocked. Which I can't remember doing all that often before wet wipes. (Well, then it was more like 10% of the time instead of 90%.)
I get those Arabs and their need for water in the loo. They apparently think we're filthy because we consider paper sufficient. They are so right. I vote sink, water, soap, washcloth (a clean one for every new visitor, obviously). Probably better for both the environment and the plumbing than flushing wipes.
(Also - when you say "wet wipes" a lot in the same conversation, do you also end up saying it "wepwipes?" It seems a natural progression to me.)