The Fly

Evan got bitten by some insect at a barbeque we were at. I don't really know how he got it or where but it must have been some insect that hopped out of the bushes bit him and then was too full to bite someone else because no one else got it and we saw a bite under his eye when we got home after the barbie. I thought nothing of it then.

But yesterday, when I came home, I exclaimed because the boy looked like he got socked in the eye. Since he is so prone to falling over, I thought he had fallen over and no one dared to tell me. I was about to find someone let rip when my aunt pointed out that it was a bite and he had it on his hands and his other eye albeit less swollen and pronounced.


This morning, the poor boy couldn't open his eye. If not for his other eye, I wouldn't have known that he was awake. So, spirit him off to the doctor we did. Of course, as would have it, this had to be the day where I had back to back consults with helpless students who were 5 days away from their exams and had a staff thing to attend in the afternoon. And the professional guilt was profound. But not profound enough for a voice in my head to chide me for putting other people's kids over my own. So, there was no question about it. My students had to take second place. If they couldn't figure out what an argument was by this point, today's three-quarter of an hour session with me wasn't going to make much of a difference. But my going with my son to the doctor, even though his grandparents offered to take him would make a difference to him and to me.

Photos don't do his swollen eye justice but you get the drift. I wanted to take a photo of the bites on his arm but he wouldn't have it. Even this was surreptiously done. He knows, to be conscious. I did not teach him that.

Apparently, he's got his Daddy's genes and his Daddy is an adult asthmatic which means there's a gene in them that makes him have more sensitive skin, nose and lungs. Joy. So, a tiny bite which sends histamines coursing through his body will manifest severely and take a long time to heal.

It's painful for this to happen or be the case. And of course, there's a fear that he may develop asthma at some point. But I shall not worry about things that may not come to pass. Of course, he seems none the worse for it, getting his fingers stuck in the fan at the doctor's office, finally realising that rules at home apply outside as well, imperiously pointing at everything especially the airconditioning and the traffic lights.

According to the doctor, he must be encouraged to speak more because he's quite happy to point at everything and get away with being told what things are. So, we need to change the "where" questions to "what" questions. She did say, he was a boy and therefore had slower speech development and that was compensated by the fact that the boy could hop/ jump on command.And that, he could do, no problem.

Upon being told this when we got home, his Grandma promptly changed all the "where" questions to "what" ones but gave it such a philosophical slant that even 30 something year old full grown adults who were educated would have given failed to give her any answers. From "Where is the dog?", the question became "What is the dog?", "What is Evan?". I don't think it's supposed to be this interchangeable but I figured she would take offence if I told her that she should perhaps change the question to "What is this on the bed?" while pointing at the dog and "Who is this in the mirror?" while pointing at Evan. Now, that would also teach him self- concept but I am so not going there with his Grandma.


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