Suggestion holds an iron grip over the minds of preschoolers. At no time is it more evident than while watching dance class.

Each week the room full of parents sit with clenched fists and furrowed brows silently willing their kid to not be The One--The One who starts the Potty Train. It never fails, if one kid utters the syllables, "I need to go potty," the rest of the class will be soon to follow. All it takes is for that one short person to break the seal, so to speak, and the power of suggestion will take care of the rest of them. Nobody wants their kid to be The One.

Last week the Potty Train rolled through the class, just like always, but there was a new twist in the events. As the caboose rolled back to class, she turned to her mom and said, "My belly hurts." Every parent in the room suddenly snapped to attention, quickly surveying the premises to be sure that their own kid hadn't heard the evil words.

It appeared we were safe; only the adults had heard the proclamation.

The mom sent the little girl into class with an eyeroll and a shrug, turning to explain that the kid would chop off a finger if she thought it would get her some attention. (I won't even delve into how epically awful that statement is, or the fact that it's probably true.) We all sat staring through the window, willing the girl with the maybe bellyache to keep her mouth shut.

Then we saw it. Time stood still as a room full of parents suddenly were granted the power to read lips, "I don't feel good," the girl said in a super slow motion voice. The teacher suggested she sit in the back of the room and watch the rest of the class.

We all knew what was to come next. One after another, high-pitched voices joined in the Bellyache Chorus. Normally it would be the kind of tune that we would all ignore. We would just shove our fingers in our years and shout, "LA LA LA I CAN'T HEAR YOU LA LA LA," knowing full well that it would get real boring to complain about fake illnesses if there was no audience.

But this year is different.

Nobody would admit it out loud, but how could we NOT all start wondering if maybe, just maybe, this time it wasn't a fake? What if they really were sick? What if they were complaining of early flu symptoms? WHAT IF IT WAS THE SWINE FLU?

You'll never catch me wandering around wearing a medical mask unless I'm actually standing inside an operating room or something similar. I mock people who stress out over every little germ. I don't *do* sick. And yet, even I started to question if we should take the proclamations of stomach discomfort seriously. Even then, I kind of wanted to punch myself in the face for even pondering whether or not the complaints were valid.

And then I felt it--the possibility of nausea. Just hearing everybody talk about bellyaches and the flu and pigs was enough. If I would have thought about it for five minutes longer than I did, I absolutely could have convinced myself that I was sick, even though I wasn't.

Apparently Suggestion holds an iron grip over grown-ups, too.