Having a boatload of children in this house, your standard Brita pitcher is wholly inadequate, and so we have one of these babies:
In the summer it sits on a shelf in the fridge, but as I don't much care for cold water in the winter, right now it sits on the kitchen counter. This is the side view. That dark blue thing on the left of the picture is the flange of the spigot on the front of it. The nice thing about this model, the thing, besides its large capacity, that makes it better for a large family than their pitchers, is that you can pour water into the reservoir at the top, and be able to get yourself a glass of water at the same time. With the pitchers, you have to wait for it to stop filtering before you can pour.
Enough of the informercial. (If you're interested in knowing more, the picture is a link to the Brita people.)
So, as I said, this sits on the counter, totally ignored by all the tots. All except Arthur. Mechanically inclined, gizmo-obsessed Arthur. Arthur, who puts inappropriate things in his mouth, who drools pretty much non-stop, who licks his nose. And, when not doing any of these bodily-fluid-y things, Arthur picks his nose. A lot. Till it bleeds, in fact.
Arthur washes his hands a lot. He isn't generally allowed in my lap for a snuggle with washing his hands. Arthur also washes his hands before helping to set the table - which he loves to do, being a cheerful and social little dude. Arthur is not allowed to handle anything that might come in contact with anyone else's hands or face, because Arthur's hands have almost certainly been somewhere moist and germ-ridden only moments before.
Adam comes out of the kitchen, looking a bit green.
"Mom? Hey, Mom, we need to move the Brita. Arthur's been touching it."
Okay. We're careful about Arthur's hands, and I'll steer him away from it, but I don't see how touching the outside of the Brita is really a problem. I'll just wipe it down with some disinfectant.
"No, mom. He's not touching the outside. He's been sticking his finger right up the spigot!!"
Now that's a truly disconcerting image. It's a small, moist opening. Arthur's small, slimy finger probably fits up that spigot just as neatly as it does up his nose...
Adam drops to his knees and bends his six-foot body over so he can peer up into the spout. "Awww, man! Do you suppose there's boogers in there? That is so gross, mom." An even worse thought occurs to him: "How long has he been doing that, and we didn't know?"
Is there a disinfectant you can swallow?