The first time my newborn son peed on our comforter as I was changing him, I was horrified. We lived in a tiny apartment, and his changing table was right next to our bed, so the distance was nothing for a little boy. I bundled him up, stuffed the comforter in a garbage bag, and hauled everything down the street to the laundromat so I could properly wash the thing. The second time he pulled that stunt, I decided it wasn’t worth the trip to the laundromat, so I simply got out my disinfectant spray and scrubbed the spot. By the third time he did it, I just swiped at it with a baby wipe. Now, ten years later, we still have that comforter, and it has seen its share of use. There are spots and pen marks and even a nice mauve blotch from a nail polish accident that happened a month ago which I have yet to attempt to remove. You see, I’ve learned something over the years—some things just aren’t worth the fuss.