I wondered, while down on my hands and knees scrubbing my toilet lid so rigorously that its enamel is pealing, if I’ve always been this scared of germs? I seem to vaguely recall a happier time in my life when I played in mud, hardly ever washed my hands, picked my nose and ate it. Those times are gone. The surgeon general, fox news, and anxious mommy blogs the world over, have instilled in me the fear of microscopic bacteria, viruses, fungi, and protozoa. Even though I can’t see them, I know they’re there. The Clorox ad tells me so. Out, Out damn, enlarged for TV, turd-looking Escherichia coli. OUT.

And the news networks lap up your fear lector-like. “Tonight at 5, why your tomatoes could make you sick.” “This morning at 9, Is your coffee table giving you diarrhea?” “We interrupt President Obama’s speech on healthcare, to tell you that your spinach could be giving you hives.” It’s scary stuff. I certainly haven’t eaten spinach in a while. And don’t even get me started on Jalapenos.

Unfortunately I’ve passed the fear onto my children. “Bye sweetie have fun at school.” “Mom, you forgot our Purell”. What I should tell them, with a wave and a strong shove, is: “Go, be free, enjoy the grossness that is childhood, dig for gold, play in the mud, hug your friends.” Alas, seconds before I set them out on the world, I remember that their friend had a runny nose yesterday and I lather them up. I certainly don’t want them bringing any germy hitchhikers home. I just spent 2 hours cleaning the toilet.