The littlest one is feeling better. Unfortunately, it took a round of oral steroids to make that happen for us. I have a love-hate relationship with steroids.
I love them because they likely have saved my son's life a time or two. This was not one of those times, but seeing your child's face in a shade of blue is something that you'll never get out of your memory. So I really do love them.
BUT, times like these, when they didn't save your kid's life, they just improved it, I really waver on whether or not to give them to him. For example, this morning, I told him I would play with him when I got the laundry in the washing machine. A task that was not 15 feet away from him and would likely take less than three minutes. He had an all out crying, yelling, temper tantrum. Complete with throwing toys. I didn't play with him.
Then, we went to Costco and I wouldn't buy him pizza, simply because I wasn't carrying enough cash to purchase it. I didn't have a chance to explain why, because as soon as he heard "no" he started crying and yelling "I want pizza" over and over and over again. Until we got home. I put food in front of him -- on a dime, he stopped crying and began eating.
That's the other thing about steroids. As it is, on a normal day, the boy eats and eats and eats. But on steroids? Forget it. He is STARVING ALL DAY LONG. He's not even five, but when he's on them, he consumes teenager-like quantities of food. It frightens me.
It's nice to know that we're on the other side of this illness. For now. But I'll be so grateful when we're all the way done and I can stop going on and on about it. And I can start going on and on about how organized I am these days. And that I'm a cleaning machine. And how I just bought the coolest chairs on craiglist and it's the end of the ding ding chair as we know it!