Friday, 24 June 2016

The Eczema Factor

Little O has mild eczema. I blame S as it's his dodgy genes that passed it on. And that's dodgy genes, not jeans. S's jeans are not in the slightest bit dodgy and could be deemed, dare I say it, fashionable, especially since I came along.

But anyway, I digress.

Eczema in toddlers
I took Little O to the hospital this week as he had an appointment with the specialist doctor. Fair do's, they've thought it through very well in the children's department. They have plenty of toys and there are gizmos on the walls to play with. There's a touchscreen with games and a telly in the shape of a robot as a last resort.

Its a good thing there was so much to entertain Little O because his appointment was delayed by an hour. An hour! And do you know why? Because someone else turned up an hour late for an earlier appointment. Excuse me, but if I showed up that late for an appointment at the GP or the dentist, or anywhere else come to think of it, I'm pretty certain I'd be given the heave ho and told to re-book.


So I spent the best part of this time worrying that I hadn't put enough on the car park ticket because I didn't have enough change, and was going to return to find a penalty notice plastered to my windscreen. Thankfully, either my moon was in Venus, or God was in a good mood, or whatever, but I didn't get a ticket (high-five anyone?).

I also spent a reasonable chunk of the hour trying to encourage Little O to pay attention to anything except the TV. He'd spend a few minutes playing with a truck, then I'd turn around and there he'd be, standing on a chair, arms crossed, with his nose pressed against the screen. Could you try and make me look like any worse a mother, Little O? You'd think the telly was constantly on in our house, which it isn't, obv.

I was really hoping Little O would grow out of his eczema. To me, he is perfect, but it horrifies me to think, as he nears school-age, that he might be picked on for it. We've tried a dozen pots and potions from the GP but I'm feeling a lot more confident after this recent visit that we can get it under control, and that we can manage it as he gets older.

And who knows, maybe he will grow out of it eventually. Until then, he is and always will be, my perfect, beautiful little boy.

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