10 years ago we hosted our grandchildren for a summer holiday in Paradise.  In shifts, the grandsons first for two weeks and then the granddaughters.

Sort of a military camp for the kids even though they were young.  We had lots of fun and adventures to beaches and crawling through caves… but each morning Grandma Pat would check to see if they had made their beds when they got up.  Every morning they would wander down for breakfast and after an inspection sent again up to make their beds.

Whenever they came out from play or went to the bathroom on the main floor, Grandma Pat would challenge them if they washed their hands.  Being kids they would run the tap so Pat could hear them run water briefly over their hands.  But Pat would march them back in and make sure they used soap and rinsed while they chanted to themselves “Happy Birthday to You” twice.

By the end of each of the visits we could hear the murmurs when they followed Grandma Pat’s orders in the bathroom next to the kitchen.  I always thought it was so nice.

I very much doubt if the grandkids remember these instructions.  But I do.

We have directions from the Medical General on proper hand washing procedure.  Apparently the polarized molecule in soap that connects grease to water allowing it to be washed down, works for the virus destroying the little knobs like velcro so they can be washed away.

Whenever I come back from outside in the garden, or on my adventurous trips to buy us supplies… I go to the sink and wash my hands and recite Happy Birthday to me two times.