Sunday, April 11, 2010

Day #3

I took to the Surgery Center a child who had a nasally, low, "cool-dude" sounding voice. I came home with a child who is sporting squeaky, girly sounding talk. Granted, he no longer resembles someone with a terrible cold, but I'm not too fond of three octaves higher either. I'm somewhat hopeful that it is because his throat is sore, but not holding my breath.

I did not think it was remotely possible that my son could ever get tired of TV and popsicles, but alas, it seems we are close to that reality. He only wants to do anything that involves running, jumping, or somersaulting - all taboo activities according to the doctor.

On a positive note, the little guy is being showered with gifts and get-well wishes. My sister-in-law brought a balloon and my mother-in-law gave him a glow stick/flashlight/whistle thing (wha????). One guess as to what he does with the combination of these two gifts......yep, the poor balloon is being beaten to death, and of course, this involves much running around the house. *Sigh*

I literally just pulled my son into my lap and said, "Just because you had surgery does not mean you do not have to obey me anymore." His reply: "Yes it does!"

It is going to be a long week.

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