Well, okay. It turned out Penny wasn't haven't an allergic reaction to our laundry detergent. It turns out that when she was sick Thursday and through the weekend, she actually had roseola, which after a few days turns into a bumpy rash.

The good news is that once the fever's gone, it's not actually contagious anymore, so the doctor gave Penny a note so she could go back to school.

But either she's still feeling a bit under the weather, or she's decided now is the time to see how far she can push Matt and I, or she's a bit spoiled from being allowed to have bottles and watch TV over the weekend, because she was the most enormous fussmonster all day yesterday.

She went to her chair and cried that she was hungry. I made her some dinner and put her in the chair, and she started throwing her dinner on the floor. I took it away from her and she cried. I gave it back to her and she cried. She cried to be let out of the chair. I took her out, and she cried to be put back in.

She cried because I wouldn't let her play with the sizzling oil in the skillet. She cried because we wouldn't let her play in the refrigerator. She cried because we wouldn't take her outside to let her play in the dark and rain. She cried because we tried to read her a book. She cried because we tried to hold her. She cried because we put her down.

After two hours of this, I finally took her upstairs and put her in her PJs, then took her back downstairs for a bottle - which wasn't actually a concession on our parts, but a move of desperation - I know it won't hurt her if she skips a meal, but I didn't want her waking up in the middle of the night and being hungry, because then she'd wake us up.

My assumption was that she'd take the bottle, then find something else to cry about, and then we could put her to bed.

Of course she chose that moment to transform into a perfectly adorable angel. She giggled and babbled and flipped through her books and cuddled with me and cuddled with Matt and was generally her usual charming self, for most of another hour.

I wondered if maybe the fussiness had been because her heavier day-clothes were making her rash itch. The gods know it'd make me kind of cranky.

But this morning, even still in her PJs, she was back to being in the Land of Sad. Several times Matt and I just had to shrug and put her down and let her wail. It's easier to deal with than I'd have expected - there's a whiny quality to this crying that tells me there's nothing seriously wrong with her. But it's still wearing.

But the rash is looking better - still there, but not nearly so red. We're holding out hope that her mood is because she's still under the weather and that she'll be cheerful again in time for Thanksgiving.

Pray for us.

--Liz