My child taught me a very simply lesson on how to care for me and indirectly for her.  When she started sneezing it startled her.  Then, as sneezes do, they come in groups.  We would coo and count and smile with her to show they were not scary.  (My multilingual wife enjoys spouting off “bless you,” or variants, in different languages for each sneeze; better her than me to provide that education!)

My wife and I were driving one day and noticed the nose scrunch and breath in before a sneeze.  We started counting and came to four.  This time our daughter gave that melting giggle afterwards.  When we arrived, my wife went to undock the rear-facing  car seat and paused looking at the black seatback quizzically.  Then she looked at me, the seat for another moment, and back to me again.  I looked at her scrunched nose and then stared harder at the seat.  The white speckling I saw was not there when we left home.  Suddenly my child’s yet-unfound-voice, in unison with my mom’s and dad’s voices, echoed in my head: “Cover your mouth when you sneeze.”