The house of plague

I can tell our family has started the school year.
Yep. Sick heathens.
My kids have always been pretty healthy, but now that they are rapped in the pox plagued halls of academia, not so much.
Their baby in a bubble immune systems are battling every snotty nose, cough, and virus other people's unclean, unsanitary, hog far bred kids bring in.
(And I'm sure their parents say the same thing about my Lysol scented precious babies.)
Boo brought home a cold three weeks ago.
The score now is:
Mommy--2 times
Boo--2 times
Daddy--2 times
Punk--1 1/2 (I think we'll be on two by Friday)
and Bug--1 time
It's kicking our cans all over the place.
We are our own breeding ground of bacteria and germs and funk.
I've murdered multiple cans of Lysol, boiled everything o within an inch of its life (you should have heard The Ma when we sanitized his Little Mister!)
Nothings working.
We are plague.
Hear us hack.
And choke
and cough.
And blow our noses.
This illness has made me rethink my stance on homeschooling just because we wouldn't have to be out there.
With the germs.
Michael Jackson and his ask may have been onto something there.