Fuss has reached the point where the blisters around his mouth are healing and drying out, but his gums and the inside of his mouth are a bit slower getting with the program. There's some stuff they give you to rinse around in your mouth and spit out, but Fuss isn't old enough to get with the don't swallow that! program yet, so he has to just wait it out.
After we dropped off the Wife at therapy I decided to press my luck and try 'toys upstairs' again. Today's signage was a vast improvement over last week's GET LOST, HEATHEN! edition, BAG SALE! $10 A BAG!
I didn't find anything bag-worthy, but there was a lot of stuff for him to mess around with- a big plastic aircraft carrier with a bag full of planes, a sound-story book thing that actually worked, a mangy stuffed chicken, and some kind of plastic 'build a highway' box missing most of its pieces, although Fuss didn't mind.
So we're sitting on the floor and he's fiddling around with stuff when he suddenly loses it and starts howling like a banshee. I grab him and note that he's drooling blood, which never qualifies as a good thing. He was quite a sight, screeching red toothed with scarlet rivulets running down his chin.
NOSFERATU! I shrieked, thrusting him from me.
No, not really...but it was startling.
I dug out one of my ever present kleenexes and mopped up. I guess one of his blistery things had let loose, because there was no recurrence once I got him squared away.
Hit the cafe for some Choc Mukk to calm his nerves, picked up the Wife and now he's napping peacefully in his nest of soft buenees.
I'll be really happy when this is over.
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