We had a little scare over the last few days. Kenny developed an odd little patch on his skin several weeks ago that went from a tiny bump to a spot the size of a dime; it was red and raised and scaly, and if you typed its description into Google, you got back all kinds of pictures of skin cancer. After a nearly sleepless night last night (for me, not Kenny), we took him to the pediatrician this morning. I think I literally held my breath as she looked at the spot, and then said, “Ok, nothing to worry too much about; it’s just ringworm.”
Contrary to the name, ringworm has nothing to do with worms, but it infact the same bacterial fungus that causes athlete’s foot, and can be passed from kid to kid, dog or cat to kid, or dirty playground equipment to kid.
So no more face-lickies from Dudley, Kenny boy. But does that mean no more trips to the park, or gymnastics classes, or church nurseries? Here I was, diligently washing Kenny’s hands after each play encounter, stelthfully warding off cold viruses and the like, and yet never thinking to immediately bath his entire body with warm soapy water. And as for the doggy-kisses? Kenny begs Dudley for a lick; he practically sticks his head in Dudley’s tongue-zone every chance he gets. grrr.
In other news, today was the first day that we’ve been living in Scottsdale that Kenny didn’t take a nap. And, of course, it was the only time I’ve actually counted on him to, and desperately needed him to, as my in-laws are coming tomorrow, and there is way too much to be done.
Instead of napping, he stalked me while I tried to vacuum. “Hep. Hep, Mama, hep!” he says, without stopping to take a breath, “hep” meaning “help” as he really thinks he’s helping when he commandeers the vacuum and stands there for twenty minutes going back and forth over the same spot. I finally gave up, and took him into the living room and turned on some cartoons. As Kenny is so not into TV (as I’m victoriously glad, except for moments like this when I just need to occupy him for 15 minutes so I can mop the kitchen), he wandered in to the wet tile, slipped dramatically, did the spilts when he tried to get up, then belly flopped, all the twelve seconds it took he to leap over to him to drag him out of slippery harms way. I took him outside with his wiffle balls, as I had the back french doors wide open and was just inside, to try and finish. Five minutes and my task was complete! I walked out to get Kenny, who had been standing unusually still, to find him with both shoes mashed firmly into a fresh pile of Dudley doo, and the offending stink on one of his hands. So much for following the ringworm preventative measures to the letter….
And then tonight, as my sweet baby slumbered, about to pass out from exhaustion on the couch after making dinner and a batch of chocolate chip cookies, Casey turns to me and asks, “Will you scratch my elbow?”
Calgon, take me away.
