Dust in the Wind

Parents pass many traits on to their children; in my case, some examples include blue eyes, fair skin...and allergies. (also Chocoholism...or does that fall under the realm of "nurture"?) My own nose didn't really start giving me fits until I was an adult--they say in our area, the so-called "Allergy Belt", it's common to develop sensitivities to local pollens after being exposed to them for years on end (YAY!) But unfortunately for him, my littlest guy seems to already exhibit a full-on case of the Runny Nose-Sneezing-Itchy Eye Syndrome that plagues so many sufferers around here. So I hand him tissues, and pour him shots of Zyrtec ("Ooh, my grape stuff!" I swear he's a mini antihistamine-junkie!) and sympathize (as I simultaneously rub my own eyes and blow my own nose).

After several years of trying to play Dr. Mom and make up a coherent treatment plan as I went along, I finally decided it was time for him to undergo actual allergy testing. To be honest, I had been stalling for a while because I dreaded subjecting my 7-year old to the tortures of "scratch testing" (Okay, I know it's not equivalent to, say, the Spanish Inquisition...but having experienced the procedure myself, I can say with great conviction that...it isn't fun. Being pricked by tiny, allergen-filled needles, which may or may not cause you to swell up and itch in multiple locations...NOT my idea of a good time. And you can imagine how hard it is to sell it to a 2nd grader!) Little did I know that the doctor administers a much more limited panel to pediatric patients (3 groups of 8 potential triggers: poke, poke, poke, DONE. Whew!). Of course before we even walked in to the office, I fully talked Riley through what would happen, so he would feel thoroughly prepared and (hopefully) remain calm. And what do you know: he barely even flinched during the "sticking part". Afterwards, when you have to sit still for 15 minutes to allow any reactions to appear, I brought out the the Big Guns: "Here, sweetie, you can play Angry Birds on my phone while you wait!" (Really, I can't think of any situation that can't be improved by blowing up some evil pigs!)

I snuck a peek at his back while he was busily flinging avian missiles, and saw one very obvious big honking red spot. When the doctor came back in to evaluate the results, the Grand Prize Winner was: dust mites. That's it. All in all, it could be a LOT worse...except that you can't just avoid dust-- it's everywhere. Yeah, they call that a year-round allergy. (Welcome back, Zyrtec, our tasty, grapey, histamine-suppressing friend!) You know, Riley made it through this point without shedding a tear...until the doctor was matter-of-factly listing some suggestions to minimize exposure to dust, and he mentioned getting rid of stuffed animals. I think Riley actually startled the man, by bursting into loud, hysterical sobs. The kindly physician quickly backpedaled, assuring Riley that no one, I mean NO ONE, was going to take away his stuffed animals! ("Maybe just a tumble in the hot clothes dryer, to kill those pesky mites, how does that sound?" Riley sniffled and grudgingly agreed that his stuffing-filled friends might not mind a therapeutic spin once in a while.)

So, it turns out that besides my witty sense of humor (ha!) and love of reading, Riley also inherited my semi-functional nose. Sorry, sweetie! At least now we know for sure, and can better deal with it ("Death to Dust Mites" being our brand new motto. Maybe I'll get t-shirts printed...). Bonus: it gives both of us an excuse to have someone else do the despised dusting chore, right?