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Spotty Dotty

Yesterday I realized there was something funny about Eva. I mean besides her hair. Lord knows what I’m going to do with that. She reminds me of Donald Duck, with long curls in the back and a very pointy lock in the middle of her forehead, kind of like a pony. The rest is sort of random and/or nonexistent. It’s like Mike Mullet meets Hitler’s horse. Anyhoo, what I’m actually talking about was her spotty diaper rash. Or what I thought was a diaper rash until I realized it covered both legs, her arms, her trunk and her face. I guess that makes it a proper rash, never mind diaper.

It’s viral. Of course it is. Most rashes are. Especially the kind that is tiny red dots (not bruises) that turn white when you press on them. Red dots that don’t are called “petechiae” and warrant a call to your doctor, particularly if they are below the neck. But Eva otherwise doesn’t seem to care. The only other signs that something is up are a slight runny nose, a hacking cough, and tendency to cry at the drop of a hat (oh wait, that’s normal).
So I’m not bothered as long as she’s not. As a unit we’re not. But I know that the other moms at Gymboree probably would be. Without a fever, there was no good reason not to take her but I wasn’t going to argue that to anyone’s face. Where in the world do I think she caught it? Most likely licking those colored balls and being slobbered on under the parachute. Which means that this morning we were off, long sleeves, long pants and socks covering most of the visible evidence that anything was amiss. En route I handed her a big bag of tomatoey puffs (thinks Cheetos but slightly more nutritious) to make sure her hands and face were stained a brilliant red. Mommy’s nothing if not clever.

 
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