Have you seen the commercial, where the woman and her child invite the friend over, and while they are playing the other child has the nerve to sneeze on the train, so mom looks disdainfully down her nose at said child, runs to the (unlocked, natch) cabinet and grabs the lysol spray and hoses down the train? What they don’t show you is that she burns her kids clothes, too.
Anyway, that bothers me (and I know it bothers my wife, too, because she said so). Kids sometimes sneeze. Get over it. And if I have to follow my kids around with a can of lysol and spray everything in the house that might have a germ on it? I don’t think so. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t like wallowing in filth any more than the next person, but I’m not so extreme as to sanitize anything touched by somebody who may or may not be sick. There aren’t enough hours in the day.
So anyway, last night was Opening Night for basketball, and my four year old was making his debut. Big brother had a game across town at another gym, so mom took him, leaving me with the baby, who was doing much better, having made it all day without barfing and being generally happy fun baby.
Do you see where this is going?
She went to sleep in my lap. It was beautiful. All the other parents, who were arm wrestling their non-player siblings to the ground, they were jealous of my perfect sleeping baby. “How did you do that?” they would ask, amazed.
After the third quarter, my son came over and asked to play with the baby. She’s sleeping, I said. Yes, sleeping, like Pompeii was sleeping. “No, her eyes are open,” he says.
In the span of three seconds she sat up, looked me in the eye, and commenced hurlage. I jumped up, cleaned the floor as best I could with her fleece jacket (luckily I was wearing most of it, but we also dripped), and said “We’re going.” My son repeatedly proclaimed to anyone who had ears, “My sister is throwing UP!” The amazed parents were so glad it wasn’t them, and I think I saw my first ever Synchronized Lysol Assault happening behind me as we left the gym.