No snuffling!

Back from a brief hiatus.

March is a wonderful time, no? Winter is winding down, spring is hinting at coming, late winter colds mix with early allergies. It’s awesome.

There was some variety this year, however, as I seem to be the one to start it all. I had grown so used to blaming the boys for bringing the ‘kindergarten flu’ into the house that I had forgotten what it was like to get legitimately sick on my own. The shine is off the apple, though. I tried really hard to convince myself that it was just early seasonal allergies (though I could not rationally think of anything that would actually be pollinating before the mercury went over 40), but alas, I was soon down with a cold. I apparently passed it to K, she to C, he to M and M back to me. Repeat. The vicious cycle has begun and I am wondering where I can go into quarantine.

C rode the storm like a champ. Spent one day home from school but was up and dressed in his gym uniform the next morning (can’t miss gym, dad!). M adopted a new plan to deal with it, denial. Arguably, neither boy seemed to be as bad as I was (and thank God for that), but M has spent the last few days refusing to acknowledge that he is sick. This has led to our new most-repeated phrase in the house: “no snuffling!”

Snuffling is the onomatopoeia I have assigned to the sound made when a child inhales all the gunk that should be blown into a tissue (n.b. this is apparently on point with a common definition of the word). It’s on par with sniffling, but more pronounced. M has decided that he will snuffle rather than blow, no matter what.

No snuffling. Do you need to blow your nose? Need a tissue? Son, you’re going to make it worse. These four statements could be recorded and played back in the house and it would save me some time.

C snuffles, but when faced with a tissue, will blow his nose.

M simply refuses. This, of course, inevitably leads to the sneeze that clears his sinuses down his face, usually in public. You simply hear “ah-choo! Ugh.” That is the warning that M is now walking around somewhere with what appears to be a bright yellow-green slug on his face. Or two. This, you would think, would be considered a problem. No, just an inconvenience. M will still try and walk away from you when you come at him with a tissue. Worse is when he still tries to talk. If you catch him unaware, he might blow his nose for you, though. Distraction is key.

Why? How is this a solution? I don’t recall every thinking that snot was my friend and that I should hoard it at all costs. His brother does not share his affection for mucus. Does he do this at school? (Of course he does.) Do they think we forgot to teach him to blow his nose? (Paranoid brain says of course they do.) Why does it usually happen away from home when no tissues are to be had? ( I know, Murphy, silly question.)

As my wife often says, girls don’t do this.

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