Fungi the Bogey Boy

Since birth my younger twin has been a strange creature of habit rarely feeling the need to enter into the world of social engagement, preferring to shun daylight, and live a nocturnal existence devoid of chatter.  As a babe his waking hours were generally between one and five in the morning - the "deathwatch" - when he would awake to feed relentlessly and then remain staring at me unblinking before the sun rose and he took to his sleep for the rest of the day. Such was my worry that I had given birth to a real vampire that once he cut his first tooth, I was astonished that it appeared normal in both size and shape.  However, school reared its head so even "Buffy Von Silence" had to readjust his waking hours for the term time at least.
Still, old habits die hard and our nightwatchman can still be found at three some mornings alone in the dark in the lounge drinking milk. At least it's not blood!  Why is he discovered in the dead of night? Well, he has a strange loud hedgehog snuffle and although, as a family, we had begun to think this was his modus operandi: sort of one snuffle for food, two for a drink, snort for happy and sniff for'leave me alone', it is quite loud at times and disturbing - particularly at night!
After constant visits to the doctor, it has been at last confirmed that he is not in fact half boy half hedgehog but suffering from an allergy. His unwillingness to talk is in part due to a huge snot problem and the snuffling an attempt to prevent candles constantly dripping from his nose. D-Day. The men in white coats are going to take him away for testing. Would they discover the nature of this allergy that prevents my child from talking? Would they diagnose this strange hypersensitivity with which my child has been born? Would they cure his aversion to human speak and prevent further snorts and wheezes?
After a series of drops and pinpricks, an epiphany occurs.  "Mushrooms!" announces the medic "Mushrooms? MUSHROOMS?" I repeat.
"Well fungus really of any type" she informs me.
So our bogey boy is now confined to a hermetically sealed bubble of a bedroom. He may not venture out in fear of coming in contact with the other moldy lot in my house until home and occupants have been thoroughly cleansed from all things fungi. My joy at discovering his mushroom problem and my eagerness to encourage him to communicate, now we are on mushroom invasion alert, has been greeted today with:"Shut the door firmly behind you mum that would be just magic!"