It’s that time.
A couple weeks into the school year, we start with the sniffling, sneezing, hacking, sore throat, whining, complaining…. and that’s from the 17 year old.
Of course it spreads.
It’s too late once it’s invaded the house. Even as my oldest describes the feeling of razor blades every time she swallows, I’m less concerned about her–too late to save–than the ones who are still healthy. “Don’t touch anyone! Don’t kiss anyone!! Wash your hands!!!”
The four year old is next.
“How’s your throat Sammy?” I get a sad face, “Still not good”. He wants weak tea, basically warm sugar water… and cough drops. this is his excuse to avoid eating chicken at dinner, and stick to fruit and jello.
After a couple days, all seems well.
Hubby mentions “Hey, look who didn’t get sick!” as he gestures towards the unassuming toddler.
Because he doesn’t know how things work.
Next day, during nap…..sounds like she’s gurgling in her nose.
Wakes up, we run to the store.
A face full of snot. Just hanging off of her, and I’m standing at the trunk of the car, unloading groceries as she looks to me for some help with this. For once, no Kleenex or wipes in reaching distance.
I have nothing. So I do what any respectable mom does….
I grab it. A handful of snot. And I debate who should I wipe this off onto…. her or me…
She wins, because I really like her sweater. So it goes on me. Just a little keepsake.
Mom of the year over here. Or just really gross and unprepared. Maybe both.