There’s not many things worse than a sick kid. Yes, of course, it makes you feel bad to know they’re sick and you can’t make them understand it’s only temporary. But besides the obvious feelings of sympathy for your little ones, let’s talk about the absolute nightmare you’re going through.
Time to call the CDC. Your kid is sick and is a walking, talking germ-spreading machine. Buckle up, because you’re in for a sticky, slimy, wild ride trying to contain the disease from spreading.
You see, as adults, most of us have the common courtesy of covering our mouths when we cough or sneeze. But those rules don’t apply to kids. They also enjoy sneezing and wiping the entire length of their arm across their faces leaving a snail trail of mucus down to their fingers.
I’ve tried to explain the importance of tissues but I haven’t made much progress. Also, how washing our hands is good for everyone. But she insists on wiping her boogie covered fingers all over the couch and her clothes. Oh and let’s not forget how she wipes snot straight up her face and into her hair until she looks like Cameron Diaz in Something About Mary.
So while you’re doing everything you can to stay healthy, you’re up against a very worthy adversary. So you pump yourself full of Emergen-C and drench yourself in antibacterial gel. All while letting Princess Pathogen lay all over you because you’re all she wants right now.
She’s coughing so you’re holding your breath or blowing air down towards her virus-ridden exhale to try and keep the germs away. Your shirt and pants are covered in the aftermath of repeated explosions of sneezes. You thank your lucky stars that she requests a water and you get to run to the sink and try and decontaminate.
All you can do is to try and keep her as comfortable as possible during the cold. And as a mom you realize, it means sacrificing your own well-being. So you give yourself a pep talk and head back into the bio-hazard area.
Once bedtime finally rolls around and you see light at the end of the mucus filled tunnel, you put your kid down in their bed. Tip toe out of the room and run for shower.
You turn it as hot as it gets and scrub yourself down. When you get out, you grab a pair of kitchen tongs, pick up your clothes you wore that day and immediately throw them in the washer and set the water temperature to incinerate. You fog out every room she’s been in with Lysol and splash holy water on everything. Then crawl into bed to prepare for another potential day of battling the plague.
The next morning you’re awakened by your 3yo bouncing on your bed and laughing. She must be feeling better! You’ve done it! You’ve exorcised the demon! So you grab her and give her a big hug and say “Good Morn…*SNEEZE*SNEEZE*COUGH*COUGH.”