Iris is contagious after all (sorry, Emmie!). What I thought was a resurgence of the last cold appears to be something new, something extra-snotty. I mean there are tablespoons of snot running out of her. I wipe it up often, but it’s sort of a losing battle.
It even impressed the checker and bagger at the co-op, guys who are probably in their early twenties but who, to a woman in my wizened state, look decidedly adolescent.
“Do you want a? Kleenex?” asked the checker, looking queasy, as the bagger stopped mid-bag to check out the snot bubble inflating and deflating outside my baby’s nostril.
There was a lot of snot on her face, but aren’t men in the bloom of youth supposed to be able to handle a high level of grossness? I really, really wanted to say, “Young man, this is nothing. You should have seen what was smeared all over my boob this morning.”