Literally Within Spitting Distance

I am visiting a friend and her two-year-old son. Her son comes up to me, almost nose to nose.

Son: “Hey. Hey, hey. Hey…”

He starts talking, spit sprinkling my face.

Me: *In a gentle but firm tone.* “Can you please back up? Thank you, buddy.”

I put my palm flat on his chest and lean back, allowing him to move himself instead of pushing. He takes a step back. He continues talking and steps in again, close enough that I am getting another spit shower. He wipes his nose with the back of his hand and reaches out for my hair. Once again, I put my hand on his chest and lean away.

Me: “Please step back. I don’t like having people so close, okay?”

Son: “Hey, hey…” *Some toddler babble I don’t remember, moving in again.*

Me: “[Son], please do not stand so close. I do not like it, okay? Thank you.”

Friend: “He’s two. He doesn’t understand.”

Me: “I know, which is why I’m being gentle.”

Friend: *Laughs.* “Clearly you don’t have children. He’s not going to kill you.”

Me: “I don’t want him spitting on me and wiping his snot in my hair. Is he sick?”

Friend: *Dramatic sigh.* “Hey [Son’s Name], can you go play, please? Miss. [My Name] doesn’t want you.”

Apparently, he understood that because his face crumples and he runs away. 

Me: “That’s not what I said, and you know it. I just don’t want people spitting on me. Kids are basically germ factories.”

Friend: “He’s fine and so are you. Big baby.”

Two days later my friend texted me to say he son had tested positive for you-know-what, and that she was feeling it too. No acknowledgment that I was right to have him back up. I have since put even more distance between us.