A Pox On Us All

As a result of the recent flu hysteria, JT and his classmates have been practicing their handwashing skills. I'm down with that because 9 year old boys are a notoriously unclean class of people. But then someone's doctor parent came to school and distributed hand sanitizer.

I'm not down with that because of my completely unsubstantiated belief that the profusion of hand sanitizers in our germ-o-phobic world has led to an abundance of anti-biotic resistant germs. And in the case of this particular hand sanitizer, its clinical smell is all-encompassing, searing your nose hairs just seconds after the bottle has been opened.

JT, a child who must be reminded to utilize soap when showering, seems to adore this bottle of hand sanitizer. He particularly enjoys using it when we are in the car together. As soon as he opens the bottle, the smell of obsessive-compulsive clean pervades the car. As we rocket down the interstate, my lungs begin to seize up in an instant asthma-attack.

Mr. Clean is unpersuaded by my ranting that hand sanitizer is the work of the devil. In the meantime, the child regularly lives life with dirty knees that are permanently stained by grass, dirt, and who knows what else. I wait in vain for a knee sanitizer to hit the shelves of the local market.