In a cloud of chemicals

What else but a hormone induced fug would convince me that it's a good idea to put my face DIRECTLY next to Little J's feverish, snotty, dirty little one? My brain knows that when another person is sick you're supposed to keep your breathing space separate to theirs, not inhale their exhales. My brain says snot smeared cheeks are gross. My brain begs me to put him in bed over there, and me in a room over here. And yet ... from somewhere else, some place that doesn't even have a voice, comes the urge to pick up the distressed little soul who's crying in his cot. To bring him into the darkened lounge room, to lay back on the couch and lay his stomach on mine, and cuddle him close. To snuggle his snuffles at my chin, to kiss his hot clammy forehead, to cradle his head and rub his back. To go cold and tingly laying in the same position, just so that Little J can get some much needed shut-eye.

I have heard that giving birth to children increases the amount of oxytocin floating around in the mother. But I am not his mother, he is not mine. Enter my new theory that cute little defenseless people (otherwise known as "babies" and "children") actually exude chemicals from their very pores. These chemicals convince other, bigger, more capable people (otherwise known as "adults", "nannies" or "suckers") to overcome all their normal self-preservation instincts and take care of the little defenseless ones.

I'm also working on another theory, that says men have managed to bottle this into "L'eau de defenseless", and wear it at random. Some of the above symptoms seem all too familiar....