Hand, Foot and Mouth

Early Saturday morning, right after we got home from VT, Paul woke up with a painful rash on his feet. I thought he'd walked through some burdock without his shoes or something, put calamine on it and went back to bed. By mid-afternoon, the sores had blistered up, so we took him to Urgent Care. Diagnosis? Hand, foot, and mouth disease. All it takes is one little kid climbing on the slide with his socks off at the McCorporate Food Playland to pass it on. Poor little guy has almost no sores on his hands or in his mouth, but enough that he only wants to eat bananas and drink soy milk all day long. Worse, he can't play with other kids until Saturday. So we're taking long walks around the neighborhood (walking doesn't seem to bother him) and picking raspberries from the neighbor's bushes (with permission). Larry made birdhouses with the kids while I worked yesterday so that was pretty cool, too. Paul loves power tools. He calls them "hammers".