I haven’t really considered myself to be one of those moms who is a complete germaphobe…until now. During Suttie’s first few weeks on the outside, I took the standard precautions: lots of hand washing and Germ-X and nervous nail-biting. When he got a little older and a lot bigger, I relaxed a bit and, until three days ago, was pretty laid back about the disease-ridden world in which we live. But things have changed, and today marks the day that I declare jihad on the spores of America.
My son has officially been diagnosed with the croup. After a night of coughing, sneezing, snotting, and vomiting, there are few lengths that I wouldn’t go to in order to postpone a repeat of this experience. In fact, I’m currently pricing air curtains for all of our doors and windows. So, if your child has a slight sniffle and there’s a chance that he or she may come into contact with my son within the next month or two, please give me a heads up so that I can Lysol his SARS mask and put on his babyGAP Hazmat suit. And don’t be concerned if I encourage the kids to play a game that involves residing on a planet where physical contact is punishable by death. It’s all in good, hygienic fun.
Oh and for those of you who were worried about Suttie’s illness dashing his weight-related Guinness Book hopes, have no fear. Despite his lack of appetite, Suttie managed to gain almost a pound since his last doctor’s appointment…6 days ago.
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