Danilo chuckled to himself in the kitchen."Gracie likes peanut butter," he said, walking into the room with a part-eaten peanut butter sandwich. "She's so cute." One of my eyebrows arched. "I don't think babies are supposed to have peanut butter." Since we bought Gracie a high chair and she's grown accustomed to solid foods, we've shared a little bit of this and that with her at the dinner table, a crumb from a roll, a dab of mashed potato. Watching her experiment with the new tastes and textures in her cute little mouth has been so fun. But somewhere in the recesses of my brain, I knew I had heard babies weren't supposed to have peanut butter. I don't know if it was something I had acquired from being a big sister or from child development in high school... So I ran up to the computer and did a quick Google search:
babies peanut butter. I found an article that said the consistency of peanut butter can be dangerous for babies because it can get stuck in their throats. I reported my findings to Danilo. Gracie stared at us wondering what the big deal was as we watched her intently for several seconds making sure there was no peanut butter stuck in her throat. "Probably no more peanut butter, though," I said as I sat down to feed her some mashed bananas. Danilo acquiesced to his mildly paranoid wife and finished his sandwich at the kitchen table. "Are those marks on her face from rolling around on the carpet?" he asked a minute later. "I think so," I replied. A few bites of bananas later, the number of red spots had grown and now they included tiny white bumps. My only allergic reaction in my life to penicillin had me convinced immediately that our little girl was breaking out into hives. Thus began a pretty miserable Sunday afternoon. As her face began to clear up, the hives continued down her neck and stomach and legs itching like crazy. Grace only knew she was uncomfortable and except for a dose or two of Benadryl every couple of hours, we felt pretty helpless. A priesthood blessing by her Dad, Grandpa, and Great Grandpa late in the afternoon (who were at our home for a family home evening that went surprisingly well anyway) calmed Dad's and Mom's and Gracie's nerves. Monday morning she woke up completely cleared up and talking and smiling and giggling again. I've spent the week receiving an education on peanut allergies. We'll know with time and probably some allergy testing how severe it is. For now we just have to STAY AWAY from them. Peanuts are much more prevalent than I realized! I am coming to terms with the fact that my daughter may never get to experience the joy of a Leatherby's hot fudge peanut butter sundae, Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, and that I might not be able to just whip up a peanut butter sandwich for lunch on a weekday afternoon. There are worse things. Aside from having an allergic reaction to peanut butter this week, Gracie officially
crawled across the living room floor last night and her
first tooth which we discovered yesterday at lunchtime is gradually making an appearance!
These two beautiful people are my grandparents and this picture was taken on Saturday night when we celebrated their 60th wedding anniversary. The first time Grandma remembers seeing Grandpa, the son of German immigrants, is when he spoke in church as a youth. He had just moved to Salt Lake from New York and had a heavy Brooklyn accent. He talked about things like "'boids' in the trees" and Grandma "didn't understand a word he said."
