I want to school-girl slap the mom who sent her kid with a cold to the health club nursery.
Now my kid, who stole the sick kid's pacifier, has generously passed the offending germs to me. Sniff. I drip as I write, but I digress.
Who do these mothers think they are?
Is their workout SO important that they risk the health of all the other kids in the nursery by bringing in their snotty progeny? Yeah, there's antibacterial foam in the dispenser, but my kid thinks that's whipped cream and licks it off his hands before it can do its murderous magic on germs. He loves to manhandle my face, and I'm sure he shoved some nastiness into one of my intake valves this week. Hence, the dripping, droopy doldrums of a Winter cold have settled in, just before the first day of Spring.
I want to find that chick, grab her face, and sneeze right into it. Not just once, either. Lots of times, like a car backfiring in a traffic jam.
That's how I've been sneezing since Tuesday when I first came down with this incarnation of the common cold. Sneezing and blowing and coughing and sniffing and driving my family nuts with my tissue issues.
With four kids, I certainly have had my share of sniffles, but this one seems more annoying than most. That's probably because I know it was caused by some cretin who didn't care that her sick kid would infect the rest of the herd. I wish I had stayed in the nursery long enough to see the mom who belonged to the pacifier kid, to school her in some common health habits. Things like:
"Buy a stroller. Keep your germy kid in it and push it up lots of hills. Feel the burn."
Or next time, you might feel the sting of a snotty Kleenex, lobbed from a miserable mom who's sick of being sick.
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