Rosalind has developed the incredibly annoying trait of being perpetually itchy. At first it started in the summer with her being unable to stay asleep. As soon as she would fall asleep she would start sweating uncontrollably and then itch like crazy. I decided it was the absence of air conditioning causing her reaction. She has always sweat in her sleep, as do I. No matter the temperature of the room. In fact, the colder it is the more I might sweat because I burrow so far under so many covers. She is the same. We got her a fan and that seemed to help. Then she started itching because of her socks. And then because of all of her winter gear. And then pretty much any clothing that touched her at all was so itchy she would collapse onto the floor of the store whining that she is, “sooooo-ooooo-oooo itchy!” I had no more dropped Rosalind off at ballet last time before I got a call that I had to come back and get her. She was so itchy she couldn’t concentrate and was distracting all the others with her scratching.
Though we keep the house pretty warm and she will sit very near the heater, I don’t think it’s a dry skin problem. Even if it were, I have bought her good lotion and applied it to her body enough to know that doesn’t seem to be the thing. Quite frankly, we don’t bathe often enough to develop normal winter dry skin. You gotta shower everyday for more than three minutes at a time for that sort of thing to occur. So I don’t know what it is. Some of it is genuine and some of it is whining. Or we are really bad parents and should have gone to a doctor or something. But what would I show them? There is no dry skin. No rash. No bites. No excessive scratch marks. I don’t know.
In the car the other day we asked her why she was so itchy all the time and she replied like so.
Her: I think I have itchy-perosis
Sergio: Oh, yeah?
Her: Yeah, itchy-perosis. Or maybe itchy-titis.
Sergio: That sounds pretty serious.
Her: I know what I have. I have itchy-bitchy.
Sergio and I exchange a look but maintain solid parental stoicism.
Her (sort of singing): Itchy-bitchy. Itchy-biiiiitchyyyy. Itchy! Bitchy!
And quite frankly, that is exactly what it feels like she has.