Twinkle: Hypochondria

Cheers to the Twitter feed renaissance--so good to see it up and running again, Mama Lola!

I'm on here to relate a glaring difference between boys and girls.

Apparently there's something going around Twinklette's classroom. I'll spare you the gory details, but every day this week there has been a note sent home in her backpack that a stomach bug has been making its rounds in the 2s class. Twinklette--thank goodness--hasn't had any problems or symptoms.

Well, today Mr. Twinkle woke up "not feeling well." His seasonal allergies are starting to act up a little, but he also complained of the classic tummyache. Then he said, "It worries me about that stomach bug in Twinklette's class. I was actually in that classroom yesterday." (For exactly the three minutes it took to drop her off).

I laughed in his face. Hello, Mr Twinkle--I am in that classroom every day (that she goes), and yet catching the dreaded classroom malady has not once crossed my mind. Not even once. I've certainly hoped Twinklette wouldn't catch it, but not once have I entertained the thought that I might have been exposed in the short drop-offs I make to her classroom each morning. And what about Twinklette? She's in the thick of the classroom germ pool three mornings a week, probably being drooled and sneezed on by every child in there. And from the sound of things, when you get this stomach bug, you know it, so I'm pretty sure there's no need to fret over some vague tummyache.

Anyway, my reaction silenced him and the symptoms miraculously disappeared. I hate to sound sexist, but I think that's the difference between a boy and a girl, a mom and a dad. Boys with tummyaches are pampered by their moms their whole lives (even as adults), so when a tummyache rears its ugly head they are their own number-one concern--forget everyone else in the house. Women, for the most part, don't have that luxury. That's one reason why we like spas so much--they're one place where we're the ones who get pampered.