Yesterday I walked up to pick up Jack after school, and his (adorable, young, funny) teacher was walking toward me with a stern look on her face.
"Um, what?" I said, removing my sunglasses. Jack sidled up next to me.
She looked down at him. "It's okay to have Purell at school, right, Jack?"
Jack nodded, eyes downcast.
"But what can we never, ever do with Purell?"
He spoke so quietly I had to lean down to hear him.
Seriously? "I licked it."
Why the HELL were you licking Purell?
"Shhhh...." said his teacher, glancing around. "Don't tell anyone."
"Come on," I said to her, "it's weird, but it won't kill him."
"No," she agreed. "But it's not good for him. There's a case of a kid getting DRUNK from licking hand sanitizer. Can you imagine if Jack came home from kindergarten TIPSY??"
I laughed and thanked her. Leave it to my kid to find the alcohol.
As we walked away, Jack confided, "Mommy, it actually really did taste pretty good."
Oh, Jack. Bless your little soul. It's not your fault. You've got my genes, through and through.