When I think of my oldest child.
I picture him like this.
A tiny, blue-eyed, pale-faced, beautiful boy.
Behind his rosy cheeks, were patches of chronic eczema.
When he was around 2, he developed a severe allergy to eggs.
Followed by a severe allergy to fresh-water fish.
Which spiraled into several other allergies by the time he could tie his shoes.
Right before he began Kindergarten, he was diagnosed not only with a number of food allergies but also what felt like a trillion environmental allergies.
He had so many positives, the doctor nicknamed him Allergy Boy.
Sometimes simple things everyone else could do.
He just couldn't.
Like coloring eggs for Easter.
After the picture above was taken he developed a reaction.
And he never colored eggs again.
I told him when he was five.
He'd by done with shots by the time he was ten.
I watched him grow-up on this stool.
Every week. Week by week.
Sometimes 2 shots. Sometimes 3 shots.
He kicked. He cried. He whined.
We counted. We breathed through them.
He had his angry stage.
He had his fearful stage. He had his anxious stage.
But never was he ok with it.
No matter how many times you told him he was brave.
No matter how many times you told him he was tough.
He hated every shot.
So it's been almost five years.
And while he was no where close to being done.
It was time to stop.
He's had enough.
So he opted to quit shots today.
We're going to salvage what's left of his childhood.
While he still can't color eggs.
He can just be an almost 10 year old boy.
