When last we met in this space, Mila was delightfully happy and healthy and HAHAHA THAT WAS A FUN DAY.
It's over, though. With a new day came a new outbreak of hives. Given that she was already on a course of prednisone, WELP. I'm going to say we can't quite blame the bath stuff and that we are at the beginning of the long path of figuring this whole thing out. In the meantime, the poor little creature is itchy and, oh, hey, did I mention that the new outbreak came with the new day?
That's not exactly true.
That new outbreak came at a quarter past CRAZYPANTS TODDLER ZOOOOOOOOOMG.
Imagine the scene: Last night Mila sweetly and convincingly said, "I go sleep?" It's part of her routine at this point. When she's feeling ready to go to bed, she simply asks to go to bed. 15 minutes later, after cuddling in the glider in her room, she's sound asleep. (I am SO good at sleep training. Obviously.)
We were 12 minutes into the 15 minute space between her request to sleep and the first tiny baby snores when something happened. A tiny little Mila fluttered her closed ideas then slowly rose to her feet. By the time she as upright, she was ZOMG SO AWAKE. It was like a zombie awakening, but worse. She wasn't undead. She was AWAKE. ALL OF THE AWAKE. It was as if someone had mainlined Red Bull into her bloodstream. Her eyes were wild. Her mouth wouldn't stop spouting words and non-words. Her hands were Muppet flailing so quickly they were invisible to the naked eye. Her tiny feet carried her up and down the hallway and then up and down the hallway and zooooooom! She was running laps. She was running prednisone-fueled laps because apparently THAT is what happens when you give a toddler steroids.
Sleep? The last thing that little person was going to do was sleep. EVER.
I carried a flailing Tasmanian Devil down the stairs and set her free amongst her piles of Christmas toys. I figured she might as well play while I tried to quickly finish some work. She zipped from toy to toy as I quickly tapped out some words on my laptop. When I finished, I drug the still flailing Tasmanian Devil to bed with me thinking that the only way she would go to sleep was if I laid down with her.
That didn't work out so well.
It was after midnight when the prednisone high finally wore off. It was instantly replaced by the itchy. One second the flailing was happyexcitedzomgweeeee! only to instantly switch over to hivesarestupidmakeitstopugggggh!
When morning showed up for duty, the hives were in place and the itchy was a thing, but Mila was mostly fine. The undead little toddler was ready to tackle the day.
I was dead tired. I was ready to tackle a bed.
The hives can go now, please.
