When Standard Precautions Fail

Today there were free children for the taking at my house. No, I'm not giving mine away. Although I was sorely tempted when I was in the middle of a good book and they kept getting hungry. By the way, a fairy tale is a very good read after Cormac McCarthy.

My daughters are giving away children to good homes. What started out as a pet store in Henry's bedroom, evolved into an orphanage when they brought in armloads of dolls to join their piles of stuffed animals. Dozens of dolls of different shapes, sizes, and colors were tucked into Henry's crib just waiting for someone to come get their baby, (sing with me) maybe. The dolls were free, because it didn't seeem right to them to charge for a baby. I asked Matthew if we could have one, but he said no. I picked one out anyway, and the kind sisters offered to babysit her for me. So, I adopted a baby, but left her at the orphanage while I made dinner.

From the kitchen, Matthew and I overheard that the orphanage now included a clinic with full-time doctors. As they made grand rounds, Matthew ducked in to observe and received this report:

"This one has mucus everywhere."
"There is mucus coming from every part of her body."
"We have been working on her a long time."
"She is covered in mucus."

"That's why we have gloves on."
"Yes, we're all wearing gloves."
"We have gloves on, so we don't have to touch the mucus."


"Some of the mucus just dripped inside my glove."


Ew. Call employee health, and don't forget to file an incident report.

I probably should've changed Henry's sheets before putting him to bed tonight.