P
eople are getting more and more obsessed with their children’s health these days. Hypersensitivity to germs has even reached our campus, with “How to Wash Your Hands” fliers posted in every bathroom, and people sporting a Purell bottle on their key chains. But we need to get sick. It’s how we stay healthy.
A new study regarding new information on peanut allergies has been garnering attention from the press. Researchers noticed children with peanut allergies generally come from a higher socioeconomic status. Not surprisingly, it seems parents with more expendable income and time are coddling their children or “protecting” them from the realities of life with microbes. They’re obsessively changing air filters for their mansion’s air conditioning units and stocking every room with air ionizers, lest little Johnny gets the sniffles.
People have long been excessively sterilizing our environments not only from germs and bacteria, but the politically correct and the morally indecent, all decided by some arbitrary group of citizens concerned about your child’s well-being.
Kids can’t share their school lunches with one another, for some reason the word “Mexican” is inappropriate in all contexts and while it’s perfectly fine to show decaying bodies and horrifying murders at all hours of the day on television crime dramas, we have to blur out butt cracks and rewrite scripts so that when someone’s daughter has been kidnapped, the drama’s protagonist yells to the heavens, “Gosh darnit to all heck!”
Meanwhile, on school playgrounds, most 9-year-olds are cursing at each other like sailors in kickball games and Pokémon duals. I grew up watching some of the filthiest cartoons in television history and even attended the same high-school as Joe Murray. He’s the animator responsible for “Rocko’s Modern Life”, in which Rocko the wallaby frequently yells to his dog: “Spunky! Stop eating Mrs. Bighead’s tuna bushes!” It’s no wonder I still giggle uncontrollably at sexual innuendos.
And really—are these things so inconceivably damaging they warrant censure, especially for a generation that, during childhood, watched 9/11 attacks on an infinite loop, then followed it up as young adults with a decade-plus foray into strange and violent Internet videos? I don’t think so.
No, I’m not saying that if I ever have children I’m going to forgo Barney for hardcore pornography, but that’s mainly because by the time they’re 6, their personal devices will have already done so without my knowledge or permission, anyway.
But what I will do with my kids is cough on them, mostly while they sleep, but sometimes when they’re awake. Not just me, but close family members and friends, the isolation ward in the county hospital, etc. Sure, they’ll be deathly sick for the first 10 years of their lives, but after that it’s smooth, healthy living with a specialized and well-trained immune system, ready to take on all the diseases of the local middle school. And better yet, they won’t have to worry about sharing beer pong cups in college, although I doubt my kids will even have to go to college. They’ll be such marvels to Western medicine they’ll get to tour in some new carnival spectacular: “I need just one volunteer from the audience, particularly a sick person,” my son will say. The audience will become quiet in anticipation. “Now sir, all I need for you to do is spit in my mouth. OK, thank you. We’ll reconvene here in three days time and I’ll run an obstacle course just to prove I’m as healthy as ever!”
Recently, Indiana Hoosier’s basketball coach Tom Crean was highlighted on SportsCenter’s “Not Top Plays” reel for dropping a piece of gum, not yet chewed, on the basketball court, picking it up and popping it back in his mouth. One of the announcers remarked, “Kids, you’re not supposed to do that.”
I don’t agree. Hell, I’d judge Crean and anyone else far more, especially as a man, for not putting that piece of gum in his mouth. I’ve accidentally dropped ice cream cone scoops on the moistened tiles of shared residence hall bathrooms and still finished without rinsing it off or cutting the bad areas away. Yes, I was sober at the time. I grew up eating month-old popcorn off of yearly vacuumed day care carpets. I’ve shared greasy burritos with the sloppiest drunks this side of Campanile and I’m still kicking. I get sick at most once every two to three years and it’s a functional sickness—I’m still able to attend work and school.
And that’s the point. We’re supposed to get sick. We’re supposed to be exposed to disease so our bodies can learn how to defend themselves. The immune system needs to be exercised, as well. This is exactly what day cares and preschools are about—forcing outbreaks of the common cold and stomach flu. So don’t turn your kids into hypochondriacs by stuffing their rolling backpacks with Costco-sized hand sanitizers. Let them put a couple weird bugs into their mouths and let them eat dirt. Tonight, make a game out of eating dinner off the floor and don’t sweep beforehand. And voilà! No dishes to clean. That way, the family won’t miss out on this season’s family-friendly TV where we blur out a woman’s nipple, but zoom in on her puking up a stomach fulll of half-digested cockroach guts and bull testicles. Thanks for protecting us from traumatic images, Parents Television Council! Uh oh. I think I feel a terrible illness coming on.
