One of the grossest parts about living in New York City can be summed up in two words: The subway. I cope with my icky commute, as well as the hours I spend with my kids at the germ-coated playground, with portable packs of hand wipes and endless amounts of hope. But, my wipes are defenseless against summer’s biggest nasty: The high school pool where my 6-year-old takes swim lessons.…
