I Gotta Run

So, one of the things that you notice about being an involved father or a teacher (I’ve done both) is that you get sick more. This is because you are essentially living your life in a giant petri dish. You are part of a group of people who are happy to get messy and wipe that mess on each other. This is sort of a drag, but the little snots are worth it.

The latest example of this is the plague that has wreaked havoc on my kids’ preschool the last month or so. The school is called Creme de la Creme (I know, I know, we’ll talk about that name some other time, but the reality is my kids love it there, I personally chose it after visiting five other schools twice each, and I am grateful to the school for what it does for my babies…)

So over the last month, just about every kid and parent at the school has caught what has become lovingly referred to as the “Creme Crud.” It’s an upset stomach, the runs, some experience a bit of a barforama, everybody who gets it has to go to the bathroom about once an hour for a few days. Then you’re back to business as usual. It was so contagious that a large percentage of the school was out the first week, and they started quarantining classes of kids who hadn’t caught it yet.

This didn’t work — they all still got it, and all the parents I know at the school got it too. I went a month without getting it, and I was pretty proud of myself, thinking I must be super strong and resilient. Foolish pride will always be your undoing. I thought I was home free until I played a Doctor Noize show for the great kids at Creme de la Creme on Friday, and then yesterday…

If you’ll excuse me, I gotta run.

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