Eosinophilic Pustular Folliculitis

I posted this pic in color for a reason: I thought it was important to put up a detailed image of one of these things--as detailed as James would allow. And I didn't want to make too big a deal of it, after all. Didn't want to frighten him or make him think this was too big a deal--beyond asking him to avoid picking at it, that is.

The image is enlarged--that's my thumb and forefinger parting his hair. The pustule is irritated because he'd itched it and torn part of the scab off...

EPF is what the dermatologist would call this: eosinophilic pustular folliculitis. At its worst, James would have dozens of these on his face and dozens more on his scalp. Chronically. From the time he was a year old until after his third birthday, he always had a face and scalp full of these open invitations to fungal and bacterial infection. Just seeing one today made me cringe and feel cold inside. He's been fighting a cold and a cough. Is it a coincidence or is there some other reason this showed up? I haven't seen one in years.

We don't know exactly why they abated. Going on the antibiotics probably helped. Staying healthy for more than a couple of days at a time also could not have been a bad thing...

GOHD! I HATE THESE THINGS.

No, Really! This is What He Said!

Second and third grade children playing baseball is really a sight not to be missed. Much more exciting to my mind than professional ball. When a 7-year old catches a fly-pop? I don't care how jaded you think you are, you WILL jump up and shout! A big part of WHY you will do this is that it will happen perhaps once per game. It is AN EVENT!

And, anyhow: what is not to like about a sport where games end with scores like 18-15? Where there is almost no such thing as striking out? Where the star of the team hits a homer because the opposing side commits three consecutive errors? This is THRILLING STUFF!

We headed on over to the snack shack post glorious victory to get a celebratory tootsie pop.

"You know what part I like best about baseball?" the boy asked me.

"The fabulously good-looking and yet supportive fan base?" I ventured.

(eye-roll coupled with a giggle) "No. The part at the end when the team huddles together and shouts out, 'Go Bulls!'" (the team name). The boy nodded then. "That part makes me feel happy and confident."

(just me makin sure) "That's your favorite part, huh. What do you mean when you say confident?"

"Proud," the boy replied. "Proud to be a part of something."