Boys Will Be Boys

Yesterday Tara started work again. This was my first day entirely alone with Henry. Since Henry's immune system is recovering very well now and he's feeling better, he's able to be outside more and play with friends. One of the neighborhood boys came down and Henry and he played with Cruckie. My girls never did anything like this...

Today Henry woke up a little grumpy but turned around quickly. After his sisters left for school, he watched his morning regimen of 'Franklin', 'Oswald', and 'Dora the Explorer'. Then we finger painted for a while.

While the paper was a popular choice, so were our noses.

We took off about 10am for McDonald's for a hashbrown - filled with fatty calories, just the prescription for gaining back some pounds. Unfortunately Daddy is also putting on some sympathy weight...those things are so good. We went over to Border's to get a few more books for some hospital reading. It's no big surprise, but his current favorites mimic some of the TV shows he watches - 'Clifford' and 'Max & Ruby'. We'd seen the mail truck passing us on the way out for errands and he was eager to get back to drive Cruckie up to the mailbox for retrieval. He pulled up close - a little too close, actually. Sorry about the plants Mommy...

He loads up the back of Cruckie with mail and then tears off around our circle while I 'chase' him. He cackles the entire time. He'll round on me and try to run over me and still, he just laughs like its the funniest thing in the world. I warmed up a bowl of soup and sat outside and watched him awhile. He'll go round and around in circles that would make any adult dizzy.

Another marker of his interim recovery right now is that he asked for a snack that was an old favorite - gummy snacks, peanuts and raisins. This used to be all he'd eat, and in fact became synonymous with the word 'snack', but we haven't heard a request for it for months. So he rode around with his snack in Cruckie for about 10 more minutes and then pulled into his regular parking space in the street which, by the way, he pulls into with a precision unmatched by most mature drivers I know. He sat with a frown on his face and I approached him. "What's wrong buddy?" I asked. "My tummy hurts," came the response. So we came inside. This phrase has come to mean so many things. It's rarely hunger. It was born of nausea and constipation, but now seems to indicate that he recalls his central line and that, I'm sure, begets further thoughts of the hospital and his stay there.

He's now having a bit of well-earned relaxation in front of the television and then we'll be off for a nap that he likely won't take. I've got some running around to do and Granya has stopped by to give me a little time to get out. A welcome respite, but one filled with a bit of anxiety as we've both - Henry and me - become accustomed to being around one another all the time.