Devil in the Details

On the one hand, the both of us are idiots.  For reading through the main stuff and stopping when we got to fine print.  Everyone knows that the fine print is the most important.  Don't think we haven't kicked ourselves plenty (but we won't mind if you join in).
On the other hand, though, J is a genius, and I'm serious, and thank goodness.  Because if he hadn't done a little related research and had a lightbulb flicker on over his blessed head, we might have gone on poisoning our child.
He caught it just in the nick of time, too.  Little One, as if She needed to freak us out any more right now, started having mysterious rashes and hives, and intense tummy problems.  We took Her to the pediatrician, who looked at Her recent medical history, noted that She has fallen off her growth curve, and decided not to touch Her with a 10 foot pole.  She referred us to more specialists, who we were supposed to start seeing this week. Which would be FOUR specialty teams following Little One, which is not the kind of collecting I'd like to get into.  Maybe stamps, instead.  Or figurines of some sort.
We were dreading these appointments and the battery of tests to come, and I can tell you I was personally having to make a very energetic effort at not worrying myself into a straightjacket, when J saw something in his research about yogurt.
One of the greatest things about being human, as far as Little One is concerned, is cocoyoyo.
She (with a little help from Her dad) has even created a song about it, which goes like this, to the tune of frere jaques:

Coco yo-yo
Coco yo-yo
I bought yoooouuuu
At the stoooore
Now I'm gonna eat you
All up in my tummy
Yum yum yum
Yum yum YUM!

She adores it.  It is yogurt.  Formerly, it was yogurt made of coconut milk, coconut yogurt.  Which is where Little One derived its name.  But after the soy allergy abated, we switched to soy yogurt which has more nutritional value and, when called "cocoyoyo" still retains the magic of being the best treat ever know to man. Or at least, to Little One.
It used to be just for dessert.  But since the soy was healthier, and She was starting to have some tummy issues, we started letting Her have it after breakfast most days.  The horrible thing is that the worse Her stomach got, the more we gave Her, thinking the live cultures would help.
Not realizing, of course, that one of those live cultures happens to be derived from COW MILK.
And why, yes, that is the Little One version of kryptonite.  We are talking over a month of stomach pain and you don't want to know what else (but it involved a lot of laundry), itchy rashes, and inability to gain weight.  We were literally poisoning Her.
Bet I just got out of ever having to babysit your kid, huh?
The day after Her peds appointment, J was looking at Her labs and reading about things the new specialists would probably look into. The lightbulb went off and he sent me a text.  Please go read the yoyo label. VERY carefully.  And there, after the ingredients, after all the other stuff, was a little asterisk.
We have switched Her back to Her old fancy formula to see if it will help Her gain some weight, and we have obviously stopped giving Her the kryptonite breakfast.  So far, the problem seems to be resolved, and we are holding off on the addition of the new specialty team to Her collection.  Thank goodness (and my genius husband). 
Little One isn't mad at us.  In fact She's pleased as can be, at the moment.  At the moment She needs all the fat we can get into Her, and I am also feeling extremely guilty.  She's just had an entire nice big tub of cocoyoyo- the real, coconut version- and She thinks that's about the best thing that could happen.
Don't worry.  This time, I read the label.  ALL of it.
I'm off to take some nekid pictures of Her in the bath or something.  At this rate by the time She's a teenager She'll have more blackmail material against us than we will against Her, and that will just not do.