"Making eggs" in her "ballerina"

Nightgown from auntie k. She loves dresses or as she calls them
"ballerinas." please note the Easter eggs in the pan on top of the
trash. She cracked them on the side of the pan before putting them in.
And then she put syrup on them of course.

Chez Caroline

Grown ups ask kids all the time, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” I think I've mentioned before that my first answer to this age old q & a was "a tree." Parents have high aspirations for their kids, higher than a tree I am sure. Perhaps they imagine their tike will be a surgeon or assist refugees in a war torn nation. Two is probably too young to begin thinking about these things, but it is hard not to when your daughter has one preferred activity.

Steve announced yesterday while we all prepped for dinner together that our Caroline might turn out to be a culinary genius. Yes, I know that most kids LOVE to help Mom and Dad in the kitchen, pulling up a chair, getting their hands dirty. Caroline takes it to the max, wanting to assist with every aspect of the dinner prep from the seasoning of the meat, the mixing of the ingredients, to the stirring of the HOT pot. This last one always causes a meltdown and even when given her own pot, with her own whisk, with her own “rue” she only wants the REAL one; the hot dangerous not to be touched by children one. Am I wrong to assume that most parents let their kids help with things in the kitchen? I’ve been accused of taking it a bit too far at times, but let me remind you that it is terribly difficult for me to watch her mix some of the baking mix out of the bowl and wonder if the cake will ever rise, type a that I am. I don’t want to squelch her creativity and passion for the sake of things being perfect. I have learned to celebrate the not quite right tasting funfetti cupcake. To me, it is the best thing I have ever tasted.

Last night we had a delish meal of sweet apple chicken sausage, grilled peppers and onions, and polenta. Caroline seasoned the crap out of those peppers and onions. She doesn’t just pretend. She wants to season, to stir, to taste. Steve said they were perfectly seasoned…before he found out it was she who did the salting and peppering.

If she hasn’t offered to make you eggs and a muffin with butter yet, she will. She’s constantly concocting something amazing in her little kitchen. Pretend eating and cooking is a lot of fun for her, but she absolutely freaks out when I try to prepare ANYTHING in the kitchen without dragging the “helper chair” to its designated spot “RIGHT THERE!”

Future Top Chef Champ? We’ll see. For now, we’ll just keep up the kitchen antics.

Coincidentally, I’m sick of losing recipes, mostly from a toddler wielding a measuring cup of water over my cookbook. All our tried and trues & novel make agains will eventually make their way over to McChow. You can find last night’s sausage, peppers, and polenta from July’s Real Simple there as well as Friday night’s “who cares about the storm, I am eating mussels” meal.

Ice cream for lunch

She slept late. I said what the heck; it's summer, it's sunny, it's

Do you see me?

We have returned

The McFam is home in CT, with plans to spend the rest of the weekend doing as little as possible. We've been blessed with some great sun and warm temps, which quite honestly we would have much preferred last week. The weather did present a challenge for the big family vacay - but we more than managed. Imagine what you would do in a house with six other adults and one cabin fevered toddler who randomly decides that "THIS WEEK, I think I'm going to wake up at 5:30." Now for giggles add in a crazy day with 50 mph wind and rain. I know what you're thinking and I want to assure you that while we were all quite bummed by the weather, it was an incredibly relaxing, fun-filled, memory making, laugh until you cry week. That tends to happen when you have such great affection for the people you happen to be stuck in the house with. I'd say for beach loving people, we got along just fine considering our one and only stop at the beach was during a particularly windy and rainy moment.

There was FREE fudge, Caro's first Flying Horses ride, old college drinking games with the cousins, drinks out at the Shanty and The Wharf, clam chowder that made me cry it was so good times 2, Mad Martha's Snickers ice cream, late night antics by the light of the MOON, good movies (Hokie, take note I do not in anyway include Mystery, Alaska in the good movie set), afternoon naps, a fancy dinner out for Steve & I thanks to Kiki, Papa, and Auntie k of course, and an absolutely picture perfect day to bid adieu to the island and allow us shutterbugs to take exactly one million photos of our little muse.

Let's not forget the stars of the week; Lauren and Vijay who could turn the greatest cynic into a believer that there is just one right person out there for each of us. Their happiness was obvious from start to finish and we wish them an amazing and happy life together. I will more than take all the wet weather we had most of the week because on Friday night and Saturday the weather was perfection, just as it should have been for them. It truly was as if some greater force parted the clouds and lassoed the sun for them.

Lots and LOTS of photos up in Picasa, with more to come.


Wayyy up high

Mad Martha's

Mint chocolate chip

The seas

They be fiesty. Ferries diverted to vineyard haven. We're still having
a blast in spite of the crazy weather.

It may be raining

But the horses are still flying. She went twice. We are saving the
last ride for after lunch to ensure an incident free meal.

down island

Vineyard trip commences in t-minus 4 hours. We hope to have the car packed, the house secured, and the toddler enjoying her first movie at 5pm, which should put us at the beach around 7:45pm. We honestly could have left last night; the level of packing in the house was at an absolute frenzied level. Lists were made and left next to the cooler for easy packing this afternoon. Things were checked off the DO NOT FORGET list twice, three times for good measure. Saying we are ready for this trip is an understatement!

We tried to keep things to a minimum. We’re lucky enough to be staying all together in a house that has a washer/dryer so I was able to justify a limited amount of clothing for the ladies. Even culled down to what qualifies as necessities, the pile by the door is alarmingly large. Of course very little of that pile is for Steve and I. The rest belongs to the princess. (Clothing, beach bag which is currently holding books, magazines, and movies, food stuffs that would either get stale or for our snacky snacker, “FWI bag” for diapers, wipes, potty, beach pails, puzzles, and other amusements, Diaper bag, which also holds the diaper bag (also full of baby doll necessities) for Baby doll, Doll Stroller, George, Baby Doll, Bag for Mommy and Caroline with pjs, clothes for ferry, 2 diapers, and one night time pull up so we don’t have to remove ANYTHING from the car.) It’s a lot.

We are very much looking forward to an enjoyable trip and especially for Lauren and Vijay’s wedding on Saturday. With the ceremony in Edgartown and the reception up island in West Tisbury, it is sure to be a truly unique wedding celebration and when the whole McClan descends upon one tiny island – well, let’s just hope they are ready for us.

I will try to ignore the fact that the sitter has neither replied to my confirmation email or voice mail. Panicking JUST a bit, but I have 2 other sitters in the wings who MAY still be available. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.

The Vineyard has a special history for Steve and I. My first trip was for his cousin Kelly’s wedding in 2001 just before college graduation. Steve took me back to celebrate 6 months of dating (ahhh!) that fall the weekend of September 11th. We skated from Oak Bluffs to Edgartown & back and enjoyed a getaway from the media and the oppressive sadness. We so enjoyed ourselves that we began to take yearly trips to the Vineyard renting houses with friends, first as mostly singles, then as mostly commiteds. Road to the Party, Party Circle. We’ve had some great times out there on that island that feels so far, but really isn’t. We stopped going once people settled down and started families. I know I speak for both of us when I say that we have hopes for a future back on the Vineyard in July, renting a house together with our friends and their FAMILIES. Perhaps we’ll skip urinating next to ATMs in plain sight of Edgartown police, or riding van cabs home at 2am from Oak Bluffs, or fighting over egg and cheese sandwiches late night from that hole in the wall by the harbor. Perhaps not. Either way – we’ll always see it as our island. We're excited to share it with Caroline, though in a whole different way than how we experienced it in our carefree youth and sadly without a peppercini eating contest at the News. BOO News for getting rid of the peppercini jar on the table - BOOO!!! Your sandwiches still rock.

Our photos are sure to be different (I kept the ones below as TAME as possible; the truth lies in the captions) this time around, but we’ll leave with that same easy feeling only the Vineyard can stamp you with.

Reggae night Oak Bluffs, later he sported a "I Friggin Rock" label from a Molson (I have more photos of Molson labels) on his forehead, but since we are all so grown up now, I chose this one instead to focus on how YOUNG we were the last time we did this trip - 2004, the summer before we got married.

I chose this one of Marc and Steve because the next best option was their post tequila shot faces. Marc now enjoys "adult vacations" with bedtimes preferably before 10:30PM, but we can't wait to travel with him again anyway.

Sean still dances like this at weddings. He's married now with a kid. A few frames ahead he bent back and tried to "wear" that bride's veil while sporting a flower he picked up GOD knows where in his mouth.

That's my brother, a wee lad of only 22 at the time. One of the best parts of these trips was a week solid with him and the biggest container of UTZ cheeseballs you ever saw.

McCashew won't be taking a hiatus. I'll be flooding the site with down island photos galor.

funny things

“Just one more to go” an oft repeated phrase ever since we installed the baseboards in the kitchen. (more than a year since the update was completed, ahem!) Helper Caroline stood over her sweaty father banging away on the wall with her play rolling pin; the closest thing to a real hammer she could find. We kept telling her that Daddy was almost done and when Steve looked over at her and said, “Just one more to go." It stuck.

“What’s wrong??” said with genuine empathic concern including scrunched up eyebrows. Most often said to nameless bathtime baby who has become her sidekick. I went out and found two doll-sized onesies for her because the public nudity was more than I could handle. She picks her up, looks right into her face and says, “what’s wrong???” before hugging her tight and kissing her head.

“Where you going Mommy?” While she snacks away on goldfish in the backseat she has started asking me where I’m driving. I always give her the plan of any outing while I zip her coat (in JUNE! Blech, rain rain go away!). She wants another run through of the overall plan of attack in the car. Between Stops. On our way home. I think she just wants to know when we are on our way home because that is when she dictates to me using her fingers to count on, “eat soup, watch Sleepin’ Booty, more juice.”

“Be careful!” While I’m driving, while I’m climbing the stairs, to her baby doll as she hoists her up onto the counter. I know I say this to her all the time. Nothing wrong with her being conscious of the many lurking dangers of our house right?

“Daddy took my George away.” We had some meltdowns yesterday afternoon. It was another one of those “I don’t feel like stopping my playtime to eat lunch days.” I managed to convince her to eat ¼ of a grilled cheese, a few bites of my reheated AMAZING ATK burger, and some hummus. By mid afternoon she was hungry and irritable. When Steve got home she was so cantankerous that she needed a time out in her crib and he must have removed all her toys from her bed when he put her in. In her defense, it was a really busy day yesterday preparing for our Vineyard trip (we could leave TONIGHT if we had to!) At bedtime she looked up at me sweetly and said, “Daddy took my George away.” It took me a few seconds to realize she was talking about her earlier time out.

“In my kitchen!” I hate to waste glasses. Don’t you? I try to use the same glass all night/all day. Post dinner I was hunting around for my glass and I asked Steve if he had seen it because OK fine I was accusing him of putting it in the dishwasher. He doesn’t share my glass wasting views. Caroline started saying, “In my kitchen! In my kitchen!” and sure enough, there it was sitting on the counter of her kitchen. She had brought it over from god knows where. Steve and I shared a “she’s listening to everything we say” moment.

single-handedly taking on the law breakers

I come from a state where aggressive driving and absolutely ludicrous maneuvering is the standard for most drivers. Back in MA, I was perhaps the worst kind of driver to have on 1-93 or Route 128; the timid driver. I would often choose the slow lane going 50. If I did get gutsy and move over to the middle lane or the fast lane, I would plan my “exit from the highway strategy” well in advance. In the 6 months before we left Boston I put nearly 20,000 miles on my car for work and a good chunk of that time placed me squarely in what I still consider the danger zones of the Greater Boston area; the nefarious Newton Rotary, the Pike’s Brighton/Cambridge exit, the People’s Republic of Cambridge, and my most hated haunt Somerville. I had begged for the in car GPS when we purchased my car that fall, I had been willing to trade my soul for it, but at that time GPS was brandy new and therefore an investment in detailed town maps was my only option at navigating the confusing Somerville streets. I don’t think I was there once without getting lost trying to get back to the highway. I did learn how to drive with one eye on my map and one on the road, but I won’t go so far as to tell you that I was good at it. I got braver as time went on, I learned the landscape of greater Boston and Central MA; the map in my head clicking new streets into my mental map as I went. I became the Queen of the short cut.

When we moved to CT there was a whole new landscape to learn; new roads, new exits, new everything. I’ll spare you all the horrible the details of the incident with the man in Westport who screamed at me for an entire red light from his convertible because I had blocked his entrance into his dry cleaner. It was not my finest moment. It left me in tears crying “I want to go home!” I was pregnant at the time; emotional and hormonal, but this incident left me crying FOUL at CT drivers for quite some time… particularly those to the south.

So dear CT readers, while you think you are so much more proficient in your driving, not nearly as brazen and rude as a Masshole driver, let me ask you this… WHY oh WHY must you race through yellow and completely red lights? At each light I encounter I have become accustomed to waiting an extra three seconds at my green for the sure to fly by moron about to run the red. When we return home to MA and the light turns yellow I cannot stop myself from saying out loud to Steve, “we’re not in CT!!!” In fact, before our relocation Steve ran a YELLOW light and landed a hefty ticket. A YELLOW LIGHT CT! It doesn’t mean hurry up, it’s going to turn red! RED, yeah, it really does mean stop, not you still have three whole seconds.

I am single-handedly taking all these lawbreakers. The one thing from MA driving I took with me was my honk happy driving style. You should see the absolutely AGHAST looks you get when you use your horn down here. (HOW DARE YOU!?) In the last two days alone I have slammed on my horn and let it keep on honking its absolutely annoying honk for several cars turning ACROSS traffic running red lights. Seriously CT. Get it together! It is so utterly ANNOYING not to mention dangerous.

CT. You’re on notice.

PSA – over, back to our regularly scheduled Caroline.


Yesterday I mentioned that I was happy to see Caroline had kept her diaper on Monday night at bedtime. The big girl pants Nana and Granda brought her Sunday were a HUGE success; she wanted to open the package right away to put them on over her diaper. Not wanting to squelch her enthusiasm, we complied, even allowing her to wear them to bed with her regular nighttime Pull Up. After Lester’s no hitter got broken up in the seventh and my parents had headed home sure they were no longer in danger of jinxing the pitcher, I casually checked on our little girl to be sure she was not too hot. (She likes to put the blankets over her head creating a sweaty toddler sauna.) There in her crib were her pj pants perfectly placed over George as a blanket, her undies down around her knees, the Pull Up not far behind ripped completely open on one side. I tried to call Steve through the monitor to assist me but my whispers were inaudible over the Sox game. I had a good chuckle over it once I realized she and her bed were dry. What a sight!

When I tried to remove her Princess pants in the morning to change her diaper she begged me to let her keep them on. So I threw my hands up and said go for it. We let her run around in her big girl pants sans diaper all morning. When I discovered her soaking wet after a large cup of juice, her not caring one bit, the diaper went back on under duress. I allowed her to keep the princess pants on over her diaper for the rest of the day.

My conclusion – she wants to wear the big girl pants, she’s just not cognitively ready. I just continue to encourage her and let her take the lead and consider her wanting to wear them as a great sign of future readiness and enthusiasm. I am sure it will help us oodles down the road. Until then is it ok for me to allow her to wear the big girl undies - aren't they an enticing treat to being potty trained?

On Monday when I put her down for her nap I heard the familiar sound of diaper tabs ripping open and sure enough discovered her commando again when I was sure she was asleep. She’s sick of diapers, she wants to be a big girl, but my baby isn’t quite ready to take the plunge.

little mommy

She might be sitting in big girl pants, but don't think that means anything. Caroline was beyond excited to open a package of princess undies from nana and granda that she insisted on wearing them over her diaper all day Sunday. As for the pj pants, she didn't care much for those, they covered up Snow White.

Here's Caroline in one of the cutest videos we've taken to date, feeding her baby, saying cute little mommyish things. I translate where possible, but you might not even need it - her concern for Baby is evident.

Enjoy this little snippet of recent life...

From Caroline Month 29


These days it is all about choice.

“Would you like juice or milk?”
“Fork or spoon?”
“Bunny pajamas or Sheep?”
“No bubbles or bubbles in the tub?”

I have learned in asking these questions that Caroline most often chooses the last option given, so I have been easily able to give her a sense of control while completely manipulating the situation. “Juice or milk?” often results in Milk. If I sense a pending meltdown I quickly offer a choice of SOMETHING and most times the whirling tornado of toddler doom dissipates and even smiles back at me.

It was warm last night with the heat of the day lingering and a storm front moving in. Caroline chose her pajamas from those grouped together for warmer weather and she was delighted in her choice; the Ariel nightgown from her birthday in February. Caroline was so excited about this little aqua dress and kept telling me over and over “Ariel!” I even convinced her to brush her teeth by showing “mommy how Ariel does it.” With those two-year molars inching their way in as slowly as they possibly can, tooth brushing is an evening disagreement involving tears and a creative girl who finds new ways to block that toothbrush with each passing day.

When I went to check on her at bedtime she was still wearing her diaper (that’s a post for another day) and she looked like such a little girl, almost out of place in her crib. She’s nearly two and a half now and while I know she can’t stay in a crib forever, we certainly won’t be making that transition tomorrow. Seeing her there in her nightgown, a hat of sweaty curls around her head, George covered up in a blanket beside her... she just seemed so much more grown up than I tend to realize as her mother.

Tuesday morning brought pelting rain on the windows and clapping thunder, which was a blessing since I had completely forgot to set the alarm. I retrieved Princess Caroline/Ariel from her bed and set out to get her dressed for the day only to have to work my way through a tremendous meltdown because “MY DRESS!!!” Even choice of pants and sneakers could not quell these tears because she wanted nothing to do with taking off that dress. I explained that it was raining out and she needed to wear play clothes to school today. I placed “Ariel” over her doorknob with a promise that she could put her back on as soon as she got home from school today and yet the sobbing on my shoulder continued. It broke my mommy heart to have to break hers. I considered letting her keep the dress on because what would the harm be really, but a loud thunder clap reminded me it was pouring rain and today she would need to be appropriately dressed. Whispers that we should go wake up daddy calmed her down, but she needed a good dose of cuddling before she was ready to go have breakfast.

I fully expect that as soon as she gets home today Caroline will be stripping off her play clothes for “Ariel.” That girl has a memory on her that I find alternatively amazing and frustrating. Just one mention of something can be recalled hours later and either we are astounded by her recall or suddenly find ourselves watching select chapters of Sleeping Beauty again. When exactly will my own free will to make choices return?


I heard the familiar call from Caroline’s room this morning, “Mommy!” (briefest of brief pause) “Mommy!” I wiped the sleepies from my eyes, opened her door with the customary thump of her “C” banging back against the wood, and she greeted me with the biggest smile. How do they do this? How can she be just so excited to see me walk into her room each morning? Does she know that it is the brightest moment of my entire day? AND it doesn’t stop there, her smiles are usually followed by gleeful jumping, all before 7am. Lord knows I adore Steve, but my customary wake up to him is usually limited to “turn on The Today Show.” Not even a PLEASE or THANK YOU.

I always pick her up, snuggle her onto my shoulder, rub her back and ask her what she dreamed about. This is a natural follow up to my very last statement to her when I tuck her in each night, “have sweet dreams bubba, see you in the morning.” I am waiting for the day when there is actually an answer to this question because the stories we already hear about alligators biting her hand can only mean that this little one’s imagination will be on the side of extreme!

This morning when I laid her on her changing table to get ready to face the day she totally stole my “routine” and announced that she was going to school today and she started counting off the people she would see on her fingers. “See Eric. See Sara. See Sonny.” The “see Sara” comment still throws me.

I searched McCashew high and low for a post about the incident that resulted in Sara’s departure, but I could not find one. I breezed through my twitter archives.

Daycare drama! Texting with Sara, caro's favorite, about her untimely exit. I am just so sad.9:02 PM Mar 31st from Twitterrific

Some background:

Sara and Michelle were Caroline’s team teachers from the very first day we brought her to daycare. They both demonstrated good judgment, excellent communication, and a pleasantness that is comforting to a new parent. That is where their similarities end. Beyond the children and their dedication to their positions, they are polar opposites. Michelle the clean freak completely dominated the room while sloppy Sara often found herself being ordered around by someone with less seniority. It quickly became clear that while these two women both cared for Caroline with equal sincerity and affection, there was no love lost between them. Caroline preferred Sara to Michelle hands down. At home it was all “sara, sara, sara.” Sara snapped one afternoon, used profane language in front of the children and she and Michelle were no longer on speaking terms. Sara left Caroline’s room, but snuck hugs and kisses in during pick up/drop off. Eventually their own differences spread throughout the center – Team Sara and Team Michelle – which resulted in Sara leaving. I am pretty sure that I am not supposed to know ANY of this, but I do.

I’ve kept in touch with Sara via text message and she offers to sit for Caroline often. The thing is, Caroline has never referred to Michelle by her own name. She has ALWAYS called her Sara. She STILL does. This grates on Michelle. This thrills Sara. So this morning, “See Sara,” really meant, “See Michelle.” I don’t know how to respond to this beyond repeating back, “Yeah, you get to see Michelle today.” My heart sinks a little when I do that though because beyond the absolute unforgivable flagrant use of foul language, Sara was always my favorite too, and I don’t want Caroline to forget her.

really simple

While cruising through my May issue of Real Simple I came upon this little nugget. I am constantly seeking new recipes for rotisserie chicken. I am not a real chicken lover, haven't been since I was pregnant with Caroline, but I really enjoy the rotisserie chicken. My curiousity was peaked with this one and everyone agreed, it was a yummy easy meal. (Caroline had a few bites after an afternoon of non-stop snacking, so I'll just say she liked it until next time when we will get a more definitive response.)

Zesty Chicken Enchiladas (Real Simple, May 2009, pg 197)

Hands on time: 35 minutes
Total time: 55 minutes
Serves 4

1 T canola oil
2 round tomatillos (papery skins removed), chopped
1 onion
1 poblano pepper, seeded and chopped
2 cloves garlic, chopped
¾ tsp ground cumin
kosher salt and black pepper
1 cup heavy cream
2 ish pound rotisserie chicken, meat shredded
1 14.5 oz can diced tomatoes, drained
1 ¼ cups grated Monterey Jack cheese
8 6 inch corn tortillas

Heat oven to 400
Heat oil in large skillet over med high heat. Add tomatillos, onion, poblano, garlic, cumin, and ½ tsp salt. Cook, stirring occasionally, until vegetables are tender, 10-12 minutes. Transfer to food processor, add cream, and puree.

*** I omitted the above step completely by using a 16 ounce jar of medium heat green salsa, which I mixed in a bowl with the cream. This saved all the chopping and cooking time and made this dish a ready in about 30 minute meal.***

In a large bowl, combine the chicken, tomatoes, 1 cup of cheese, ½ cup tomatillo cream sauce and ½ tsp each of salt and pepper.

Warm the tortillas according to package directions. Spread about 1 cup of the remaining sauce on the bottom of a 9x13 baking dish. Roll the chicken mixture in the tortillas and place them in the dish seam side down.

Top with remaining sauce and cheese. Bake until beginning to brown, between 10-15 minutes.

*** Since I did this on a day I was home with Caroline, I prepped the chicken mixture, rolled it into the tortillas, covered the dish with saran and fridged it until about 20 minutes before I wanted it in the oven. Then I executed the final step with the sauce and cheese. In retrospect, it would have been better if I rolled it just prior to the oven for less sauce soak on the bottom of the tortillas and less anxiety over the baking dish still being too chilly to be placed into a hot oven. ***

she's kind of a big deal

Auntie k is a pretty amazing aunt. She’s always around to cover cheeks with kisses, provide a stern no when needed, or to host sleepovers for date nights out in the city. Her absolute adoration for all the children in her life is palpable and genuine.

Auntie k is a talented writer, so gifted that even considering writing something about her recent accomplishment makes me feel completely inadequate in her lofty shadow. Auntie k recently coauthored author a book series for children and families coping with food allergies. We’ve previewed a copy of the first book in the series and I am happy to report that it is truly wonderful.

Sports-Tastic Birthday Party introduces a novel way for families to cope with the many challenges food allergies bring to the table. Kerry and her coauthor Heather are hoping to spread their message far and wide to educate not just families living with allergies, but everyone on their “No, biggie!” concept. As a social worker, my favorite part is that the kids each have something besides their allergy that makes them special; Scott’s allergic to soy and loves sports, Greta’s into galaxies and allergic to gluten, and even Natalie, an art lover with no allergies. Years ago when I spent a long (and woeful) summer as a counselor for a camp for girls with diabetes. While I have some pretty terrible memories of that summer (the hike to heck namely), it was astonishing to see the girls’ self-esteem skyrocket when they were known by their peers not for having diabetes, but for being the best swimmer, the fastest one to the snack bell, the funniest. The stigma of being the kid with diabetes evaporated for those two weeks. The high they left with lingered for a bit before evaporating completely and the countdown to camp would begin again. With food allergies so prevalent these days, its time for kids to find a better way, a non-medical way, a year long way, to cope and be known for who they are rather than what they cannot eat.

Congratulations Auntie k!

Your work is going to change the way people think about allergies.