A sudden and mysterious outbreak of communicable disease began recently in my apartment building in Manhattan. Three 7-year-olds, a boy and two girls, were sharing the elevator one day with a caretaker and a random adult (me). The boy was leaning against the back of the elevator, between the two girls. 'Help! I'm in a girl sandwich,' he said. 'If I'm not careful, I'm going to get cooties!' 'Kids still play Cooties'' I asked, surprised that cooties were not a relic of my Boomer childhood but had endured into the 21st century, still sparking alarm, feigned or real, among the young. 'Yeah-huh,' the boy said. One of the girls piped up: 'I know how to give a cootie shot.' She demonstrated on her own shoulder, her technique a bit of a blur. The kids and their caretaker got off on their floor, leaving me to ponder the cootie phenomenon for the first time in many decades. Beyond being amused, I was struck by the morbid salience of a children's game that mimics infection at a time when...
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