Poor sore paw

Anya is of an age where she's getting everywhere and is in everything. One result of this is that her hitherto blemish-free epidermis is getting into its first few scrapes.

The one that's bothering her at the moment cropped up out of nowhere on Sunday morning. It looks absolutely horrific: two patches of what looks like broken blister on her right hand, together at least as big as a 5p or 5c piece. The top layer of skin is worn away, and that below looks damp and painful, with the whole thing surrounded by an angry red halo of inflammation. But so far it bothers Anya far less than it does us, and she's been absolutely heroic in calmly letting us clean the thing.

The worst bit is that we don't know what caused it, or even what it is. It looks like a very nasty burn, but Anya's not shy about telling us she's unhappy so it's weird that we didn't notice that happening.

There was a moment on Sunday morning when she fell over close to the radiator and got very upset from the tumble flat on her back. I might have mistaken burn-crying for fall-crying; but if her hand brushed against the radiator it would only have been for a split second as she fell, and I can't see that you could get a burn that nasty, that quickly. Furthermore, it doesn't seem sore now, and I'd have thought a burn that bad would still be painful.

We saw the doctor yesterday, who noticed she had a temperature and thought she might have picked up impetigo - quite a common if yucky skin condition among toddlers. So we got some ointment and antibiotics and we're dosing and cleaning and dressing the poor girl multiple times a day, and we took a swab which should bring back results later this week.

The bright note in all this is just what a ray of sunshine Anya has been. She has been more whingey than usual and we were both a little strung out when we got back from the doctor yesterday, but her good nature and humour shines through all the time. At the doctor's we braced ourselves for a fit when she took the swab, which is meant to be quite painful; but Anya was a complete stoic, and even burst into peals of laughter a few seconds after when she noticed that the doctor's box of tissues had a picture of puppies on it. The doctor was so charmed that she said we should take the near-empty box away for her. Wheeling her round the pharmacy afterwards, I caught her absently pulling out the remaining tissues and dropping them contentedly on the floor like a bored flower girl; and cracked up laughing myself.