While my two-year-old recovered from her recent tonsillectomy, a friend brought some get-well-soon gifts to our house. They included a toy and the virulent cold her two-year-old was suffering from but she didn't tell us about. The boy sneezed it into our daughter's face.
Knowingly bringing an infected kid around non-infected kids makes you a bad person. Period. And that's why, when we have plans we don't want to break, we all pretend not to know -- especially to ourselves.
That runny nose? Must be allergies. That cough? Reflux. Your temperature? No time to take it now, we're running late. Otherwise, we would have to admit that we are the bad people that we really are. And that we deserve it when it's done back to us.
For instance, our pediatrician's office is divided into two sections -- as indicated by the sign directing "sick patients" to the left, behind a partition. Whenever I see this, my first thought is how uncommonly courteous this setup is to kids coming in for a well check or skinned knee. But my second thought is how, no matter what we're here for, my daughter and I are not sitting in the sick section. So she has an ear infection. That means she should also pick up Ebola in her already-compromised state?
Thus, I had no right to be mad when our friend stopped by with patient zero. She was nice enough to think of our daughter's recovery and buy a puzzle. And she wanted to present it while the reason for presenting it still existed, and while her son -- who probably wasn't really sick, probably -- could wish her well.
Of course, just because I had no right to be mad didn't mean I wasn't. And this is because I am a hypocrite. I have never claimed not to be.
Thankfully, our daughter recovered without ever catching that cold. But we can't wait until her next play date shows up pretending not to have lice.
Have you ever let your sick kid play with others and yet become angry when it happens to you?
Image via Marcus Nelson/Flickr