I found Hayes. He was in a little pop-up tent, hiding from me, playing with the empty cup of milk. I have no idea if he even tried to drink it, but it was empty and I was so thankful. I grabbed him up and immediately began pulling off the wet clothes that clung to his little body, all the while remembering what had happened to his little arms last 4th of July when a little milk splashed on him from a sippy cup. I knew what the stuff could do to him. Not knowing if he actually drank the milk, or just played in it, I went ahead and gave him a large dose of benedryl and got the epi-pen ready just in case. I kept watching for any signs of swelling or repiratory distress. My heart beat a mile a minute.
When I peeled off the clothes, I watched as hundreds of small red, raised blotches appeared where the milk had touched his skin. They showed up on his tummy, his hands and wrists, his feet and his neck. He was covered in them, all from simply touching the milk. Thank you God for keeping him safe. I don't think he even tried to drink the milk. I am just so thankful. The spots were gone when we woke up this morning, and he never really seemed bothered by them at all. We all have our battles. I never knew one my biggest ones would be MILK! Now you may better understand why I am "protective" and strict when it comes to feeding my children. Who would have guessed that spilled milk could do that to a child's skin?
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