On Allergies, Epipens, and the Gryffindor Lion

It turns out my daughter Violet is allergic to a lot of stuff. Still, we're grateful that she's not the boy in the bubble or the baby with a baboon heart.

Not allergic to foofy things.

Well, the truth is, we're not completely sure what she's allergic to, or whether she's even allergic to anything. Blood tests showed allergies to wheat, soy, eggs, corn, milk, and I think some other stuff. Then skin tests showed lower levels of certainty for allergy to some of those foods, plus it added a dog allergy. Then, when explaining the skin test results, the allergist essentially admitted that allergists aren't very sure about anything, and that we'll just have to test each food on Violet to see if she dies or not. Thank goodness for the miracle of modern medicine.

And also, thank goodness for Epipens, right? And why can't they make Epipens with good stuff inside, like popsicles and popcorn and gravy? Then when you're like, "Man, I could really go for some pizza right now," you just stick your pizza-flavored Epipen in your leg and then you're like, "Ahhhh..." I think I'm onto something, but I need financial backers. Mom? Please?

I suspect it's Shannon's genetics' fault that Violet has allergies.* My genetics only pass along to our children strength, wisdom, courage, and bravery. Basically, if you extracted my genetic code and then slapped it on a piece of paper, you'd be looking at the Gryffindor lion. And I'm not allergic to anything. Well, except one-sided political conversations. And cyanide.

* I only mock Shannon's genetics in jest. In reality, Shannon's genetics are responsible for all that's good in the world. Basically, if you extracted Shannon's genetic code and then slapped it on a piece of paper, you'd be looking at Ronald Reagan.