I probably shouldn't be surprised, what with his favorite game being "What's the Nastiest Thing Within a 5 Mile Radius That I Can Put in My Mouth?" (Answer: a shopping cart handle!)
[Side Note--I recognize that oral fixation is an important part of a baby's growth. They really relate to the world one nasty thing in their mouths at a time. What I'm wondering is how this could possibly be a good evolutionary strategy. "Yum! Hepatitis!"]
Don't get me wrong--I'm most certainly not a germaphobe. I'd rather LO get sick now and build up immunity and all that good stuff. You'll never see me carrying Purell in kegs to playgrounds, nor will you ever hear me snap at my child "We NEVER touch door handles! Never!" as I overheard one mother do at the Y recently. I tend to be more of a germambivalent, which makes me a little concerned about if we ever have more children. (You know how the third child just gets the pacifier rinsed off in the garden hose before getting it reinserted? What will happen to my third child if that's what I already do with my first?)
So I'm not that concerned that LO has the sniffles. I just wish he didn't feel the need to share the wealth with his loving parents. J is snuffly and coughy, and I'm having trouble keeping my eyes open for longer than 10 minutes at a time. This is really convenient, since LO has decided that being sick is the perfect opportunity to experiment with constant wakefulness. (I exaggerate. LO thinks all times are the perfect opportunity to experiment with constant wakefulness.)
Having your child feeling under the weather really teaches you a great deal about parenthood. For example, I have learned the lesson that "We Can't Have Nice Things!" because of this little cold. The entire B family went to the wedding of our friends Nate and LeeAnn this weekend. I was excited at the opportunity to dress up, considering my definition of dress up lately is to wear the shirt that *only* has set-in stains on it and does not currently have fresh spit-up, urine, snot or poop. I wore an actual dress. I put on makeup for the occasion and made an attempt to style my hair. I actually figured out what jewelry would go with the outfit and didn't wear it because my tiny little magpie would have pulled it off me in a painful fashion, but just thinking about baubles made me happy. Best of all, the dress fit! (Okay, everywhere except in the chestal region, because I'm a little more ample than I once was in that area. But that's why G-d invented safety pins, which showed all evening because LO kept pulling at that area of the dress in an attempt to get at Mom's Kitchen.)
Well, that lovely dress first became covered in snot.
Then it got stretched out in the aforementioned chestal region.
Then, as I was sitting with LO on my lap, facing the table, LO's fuel thrusters shifted into reverse and he spit up all over my lap.
I decided it was probably prudent to avoid hugging the happy couple after this point.
So, we're on day 5 of Mr. Snotnose Coughberg. The main skill that Mr. Coughberg has been showing off is his incredible ability to create snot while angry. For instance I'll put him down for a nap and he will object. Despite his strenuous objections, I will go do something like shift the laundry to the dryer, all the while promising him that his complaint has been lodged with the proper authorities. When I get back upstairs, I will find that nearly 75% of the child's head is covered in anger-snot.
"How can a creature so small generate so much ickiness?" I ask him.
"I said you wouldn't like me when I got angry," he replies. "Now open up the Kitchen or I'll be inconsolable all afternoon."
Though I nominally take the CIA approved stand that I don't negotiate with terrorists, I also know it's only a matter of time before a snot bomb goes off in my living room. So generally Mr. Coughberg gets his demands met: unlimited nursing time, Mama holding him, play time with Daddy, and of course, the private jet and $5 million in unmarked small bills.
Once he's back to 100% healthy, I'll probably take back the jet and the money. Do you have any idea how germy those things are?