My Wife is a Saint

I spent Sunday afternoon at Chuck E. Cheese. I have never been to CEC before, and I took Gabriel to a birthday party. Michele has taken the kids there for these events on all previous occasions. It was exactly what I anticipated. flashing lights, games, children's music, general chaos, germs, and noise, noise, noise.

As I have aged, I have become more and more concerned with germs. Okay, I'm a germophobe. This facility, and others like it, must be a cornucopia of nearly all known communicable diseases. The kids crawl around the tunnels and climb the tower with their shoes off, touch everything in sight, wipe their noses, and spread unspeakable microorganisms to everyone and anything with whom they come into contact. Should we incinerate our clothes? But I digress. My tolerance for this kind of chaos is low; probably lower than it is for most people.

I don't know how Michele does it. If I was ever faced with having to choose between say waxing my body or enduring Chuck E. Cheese again, the decision might be a challenge. Yet somehow Michele endures these types of events regularly, and with a smile. That's because she's a great mom who thrives on seeing the kids having fun and enjoying themselves. Not that I don't, but I get a bit uptight with this kind of event, because it is hard for me to see disease-covered hands touching faces or worse, mouths, and I come unglued. I realize the best defense against germs is to be exposed to them, but I firmly believe the kids get their fair share at school.

Maybe I just need to lighten up and relax a bit.