pickin' your poisons

So as I type, the kidlets and I are testing out one of those toxic-fumes-spewing-mosquito-killer lanterns in the backyard.  It goes against most of my morals.  What with all the fume-y grossness being inhaled by my littles, the birdies, whathaveyou.   It even says right on the freaking package that said product has proven destructive and deadly to fish, so we ought not to put it near water or directly inhale.  Lovely. 

The thing is this.  My Boy-o is a sensitive lad.  In all kinds of ways.  But the pertinent way for today's conversation is the rather severe allergic reaction to bug bites which cause him to scratch off layer after layer of skin until he becomes a wee walking festering wound.  And this after constant use of Afterbite, calamine AND daily doses (and sometimes overdoses) of kids Claritin to try to help deal with the problem.  Friends, it ain't pretty.  We've tried every natural bug repellent known to humanity.  Dryer sheets, citronella, natural sprays, etc. etc.   I've endured smug Organic Planet staff telling me things like: "If he just had enough B vitamins, the mosquitos wouldn't bite him."  And I didn't even drop-kick her on her hippy patchouli-scented- Birkenstock-lovin' arse.  (For which I believe I am due some serious karmic points for said feat of restraint).  We moved on to deet.  More deet.   The little dude is still covered in bites.  And open wounds.  It's itchy.  It's painful.  It's awful to watch and often more than a little gross.

So my choice becomes this:  kill the baby fishies and maybe even a few baby birdies and let us all inhale a few toxins or give up on the idea of finding some relief for my kiddo. 

Sorry baby fishies.  You're shit out of luck.