So the Six-Year-Old is slightly concerned about the plague. You know, The Black Death? Thanks, Wikipedia. He read the whole article a few months ago. Ever since then, we get to have conversations like this:
Husband: We need to go inside, the mosquitoes are coming out.
Six-Year-Old: Wait–they suck blood right? Can’t that spread the Black Death?
Six-Year-Old: The body has a defense for every hole in the skin. Snot, tears, spit, ear wax, stomach acid, diarrhea–except for the Black Death. That comes through flea bites, which just pokes through your skin and skips everything.
(A month later there would be a concerning issue of fleas in his bed. Thankfully he survived.)
AND at the doctor’s office, getting shots:
Six-Year-Old: Will one of these protect me from The Black Death?
Six-Year-Old: Why not?
Doctor: hmm… well… it’s not really something we have to worry about.
Six-Year-Old: If you get it, you’ll worry about it–there’s no cure.
AND after his reaction to the measles vaccine:
Husband: You’re covered in bumps!
Six-Year-Old: I think it’s the Black Death!!!
Husband: No, dude, it’s not. Remember, that hardly ever happens anymore.
Six-Year-Old: Oh right! They said it only killed about 300 people in the past hundred years, and they were mostly near California. We’re in Georgia, which is basically the opposite of California. So that’s good.
And last but not least, our personal favorite:
Six-Year-Old recently had a rude awakening when he realized that his mouthwash routine at night was, in fact, not protecting him from the plague. Who knows how long the poor child had swished in that assurance.
Sorry, Six-Year-Old. You’re only protected from plaque. With a Q. Not plague with a G.