Updated: Feb 6, 2018
When I’m purelling my purell you know it’s bad.
My son’s infant teacher at day care is nice enough to call me twice a week being that we never see her. “School” hours are 9:00AM to 3:15PM, because that aligns with anyone’s working schedule? So since my kid is there from sun up until sun down, she calls to update me. Every time I see that phone number come up on the screen, my heart stops and when I answer, the first words out of her mouth are “he’s fine.” Except that one time when she said it was “Nathan’s mom” instead of “Nathan’s teacher” and I died inside then almost jumped through the phone and smacked her. Like I don’t already feel guilty enough.
Last week we got an email that someone in the class was sick. It was strangely both vague and very specific at the same time.
“Dear parents of Room 100, 101, and 105, there’s been a case of adenovirus reported in your child’s class or wrap around care.”
I didn’t even know an email like this existed. I was under no illusion that my baby would never get sick from day care. That’s basically the cost of entry into day care. Everybody’s mouth has been on everybody’s toys in everybody’s hands. It’s a germ paradise. But this year the flu has been so bad that I’ve been silently freaking out. By silently I mean telling my husband 100 times a day that I’m freaking out, buying every single wipe known to man, and taking everyone’s temperature every night. I even tried to take the cat’s temperature for fun and the thermometer was like WTF?
When I picked my son up at day care that day they told me 3 kids had gone home sick. Oh man. Just what I needed to hear.
Then today it happened. I got the call. “He’s fine, but..” But? He has a fever. So he’s not fine?
I wonder if they sell plastic bubbles on Amazon Prime?...