Soon, she was doing the same thing with pasta sauce and mashed potatoes. Then one afternoon, I caught her sharing Noah’s yogurt, putting the spoon into her own mouth before returning it to his cup.
“Diane, please don’t put your saliva in Noah’s food.”
She stared at me, visibly offended.
“Honestly, you’re such a germaphobe.”
I turned to my husband, Mark, hoping he’d finally make it clear that this wasn’t acceptable.
Every now and then, he would tell his mother to use a clean utensil. But whenever she brushed off his request, he would shrug, take another sip of coffee, and let the conversation die.
I kept telling myself that eventually he would understand how serious this was to me.
But every time Diane ignored another request, I felt as though I was being left to handle the problem alone.
One afternoon, I reached across the counter to remove a bowl she’d contaminated with her spoon.
Diane let out an exaggerated sigh.
