Remember when I was worried that Michael had food allergies? I can conclusively say that he may not have full-blown allergies (no hives, no breathing problems *KNOCK ON WOOD*), but he definitely has some sensitivities. Something in that store-bought hummus, cinnamon, and tomatoes (or tomato sauce, canned tomatoes, at least). In the case of the first two foods, he gets a contact reaction (red splotches around the mouth).
In the case of tomatoes, it shows up later in the process, if you get my drift. I’m hoping it’s something he outgrows, because we like our tomato sauce around here! It took me a little while to put two and two together, poor little guy. But once I had an inkling, I took it out of his diet for two weeks. No problems, no rash. We were at a party on Saturday where the vegetarian choices were limited. So I took a chance on the pasta, and BOOM. Next day, problems and a rash. I’m guessing it’s the acidity of the tomatoes.
(My other guess was strawberries, but fortunately it’s not that. I say fortunately, because like the girls, you can’t even show strawberries to Michael unless you are going to immediately feed him some. “Berrs?” he’ll ask, then “berrs, berrs!” I swear somedays all he eats is fruit — strawberries, blueberries, cherries, bananas — and either bread or yogurt.)
I jumped the gun on telling ya’ll that we had our own vacation house. The guy forgot to double check his calendar, and told me the place was free when it wasn’t. The other place I inquired about is $300 more, and bigger — way more room than we need. I was hoping to hear about another place, but so far, nothing. Looks like we’ll be crashing with my parents again, which does have its advantages. (Primarily, a Nonna who will take them for a morning stroll while I have coffee.)
Other random Michael words: car, go, ball, doggie, mine, outside, “ella” for Bella or sometimes “la-la”, “ink” or “rink” for drink. He says “sock” only he can’t say “ess” yet, and so subs a “k” sound in the word, which makes me giggle like a 12-year-old. He says, “bye” and throws kisses.
I will warn you: if you say to Michael, “Do you want to go outside?” you better be ready to go outside. There’s none of this going to the bathroom, or looking for shoes, or it being 6:30 a.m. Say “outside” in his earshot, and you’re heading out the door. No if, ands, or buts.
Speaking of “buts”, we have a new aphorism in our house. I was telling Flora something the other day, and I ended by saying, “And no buts.” Kate piped up, “Yeah, butts are for pooping.”
Truer words were never spoken.