The Mini had a follow up yesterday with his “voodoo” doctor, and she’s more than pleased with his progress. After a solid week of hell, it was nice to have that sort of information. Not that it wasn’t information that I didn’t already know.
Every day that goes by, I feel like I know my son a little more than I did the day before. Not that I didn’t know his nuances, but since he’s been born, I’ve been eager to know his personality. I firmly believe that he spent a good portion of his life, feeling like complete shit, preventing us from getting to know who he really is. The doctor commented on him looking happy, and for once, I really believe that he’s truly happy. He feels better, what’s not to be happy about? I watch him with amazement as he comes over and asks for things. I (try not to, but my poker face sucks) laugh when I hear him mimmic my stern “NO DON’T BITE, that really hurts!” Complete with the face and intonation. I melt when he gives me a hug after I’ve told him not to do something. Or when he comes up and does the verse of wheels on the bus where I tell him I love him, and then climbs in my lap. I love to watch him point at EVERYTHING now, and say “DAT!”
I love how small and innocent he still looks outside in the big world. And I’m holding onto it with every thing that I have.