I’m not proud of this series at all.
But I figured if it freaked & affected me that much, I ought to document it down. You know, just in case I need a mental walk down memory lane for when #2 comes, or if some friend gets a similar panic attack as much as I did then I’d be able to console her on how she must be feeling!
Though all I’m really hoping is that some weeks later, I’d be re-reading this post and laughing in relief (phew, nothing happened). Just as I did recently with this post.
This morning, we decided to soak in some sun, fun & take photos at the Botanic Gardens. The Bo & I haven’t been there to explore its grounds since our teens – unless you consider walking from car park to Halia and back. And now that we have a kid, it made sense to attempt a “family outing” to the gardens/park.
We were blessed with lovely weather. The sun wasn’t too scorched, passing clouds provided hints of shade.
The little man was all excited seeing dogs, swans in the lake, little kids running amok green pastures.
We found a nice spot just below a huge tree and decided to park ourselves to give the little crawler some roaming space (by this point he was showing his displeasure in being cooped up in the pram or in one of our arms).
And more than roam the little one did. Soon little man’s hands were dusted with dirt, soil & grime. The protective dad asked if we should wipe his hands right away, and guess what nature-mom-wannabe-for-the-morning replied? “Don’t worry about it! He’s going to soil those hands again. Might as well just wash them later on”
<there might have been some snide undertones along the lines of: I hang out with the boy everyday, I would know better that he can handle grimy hands and not be silly enough to put them into his mouth right, don’t be so paranoid LAH>
But of course being the surprise guest that murphy always is…
THE LITTLE ONE SUDDENLY GOT BORED OF EXPLORING, LOOKED AT HIS HANDS AND PROCEEDED TO LICK ALL THAT WERE IN THEIR HANDS ALL IN A SPAN OF 30 SECONDS or before I could say STOP (whichever is faster).
You can only imagine what happened next.
I screamed, pulled Liam’s hands out.
He froze in shock literally – his mouth did not move nor close, which was a good thing – as I used my hand to clam on to his cheeks to make the mouth open
I quickly removed all the big bits that were visibly on the tongue. Liam got annoyed and started to scream and the same time.
The Bo then took a wipe, grumbled how I did not clean out ALL the dirt (wow, bionic eyes?) and then took a swipe on little man’s tongue before showing me “you see!” the remnants.
I then took another wipe and swipe the little tongue for good measure and by now Liam was in tears.
And of course I got a earful from the Bo after that…”why didn’t you anticipate”, “how couldn’t you see it coming”, “arghhhhh we should have slept in this morning”, “this is how HFMD starts…”
It was understatedly dreadful, the aftermath of the Liam-eating-soil incident and being on the receiving end of papa’s endless rants (thankfully he rarely does this) . How was I to know! And why wasn’t I freaking out as crazily as papa! I definitely didn’t want to be the cause of soiling Liam’s clean slate of not falling sick since birth yet.
During moments as such, thank goodness for FB and rally of supporters who promptly left comments. It definitely did wonders in making me feel better…till at least the Bo’s fury was iced.
EDIT as of 26 Feb 2013: After monitoring 9 poops since the incident (all looked rather normal to me), looking out for rashes (none appeared), abnormal behaviour (hyper and manja as ever) and praying hard that nothing poisonous or baby-damaging went in, so far so good for now. *fingers crossed till he turns 1*