I had to take Jasper to the doctor yesterday. He was rubbing his ear all morning and moaning “ooouuuuch”. It turns out his right ear is so infected that it’s almost hemorraging. I don’t exactly know what that means, but I envision an explsion of goo and pus flying out of his ear like something you’d see on a cartoon.
I don’t recall the last time I had to take a child to the doctor.* My kids are remarkably hardy. Nobody gets sick. We have the sniffles from time to time, but that’s about it. I know I’m completely jinxing myself, but we have missed out on that throw-uppy bug that’s gone around the last few years.
Do you want to know why we stay so healthy and well? It’s possible that they inherited their sturdy constitutions from me. But more likely it’s because we don’t wash our hands. I’m a stickler about washing after going to the bathroom, because that can be disgusting. But as far as washing before dinner? Eh, if they’ve been playing outside all day sometimes I’ll make them do it. I don’t really care. Wash, don’t wash, whatever. I simply think all this hand-washing is type-A nonsense. I know what doctors say: Wash, wash, wash. But I’m not a germ freak. That’s not to say that I don’t believe in germs or illness. I have bookmarked the site for Pandemic updates. Really. (Check it out here.)
I find myself really annoyed by germaphobes. I have one friend in particular who will not let her husband or children into the house until they’ve scrubbed down. And yet her children get influenza each year (Not the barfy kind–the kind that is reported to the county services); and have strep regularly; and miss school almost once a week because they are so sickly. My mother-in-law is also a sickly person who would have her blood replaced with Purell if she could.
I have to look at the evidence, folks. And the evidence in front of my face says that my kids are never sick. With six children, we are constantly bombarded with germs, yet we don’t catch anything. The kids have obviously developed some amazing germ resistance. Hopefully they aren’t like Typhoid Mary or those explorers who came to America and decimated the natives with smallpox. If that’s how it works, and your kids happen to be around my kids, then I guess you’ll just have to make yours, ahem, wash their hands. Or not.
*for something illness-related. We’ve had immunizations, duh. And Ada fell on the tile floor during the summer and required a blob of super-glue on her chin. But we haven’t been sick since we moved to Texas.