Updates From Just Another Day

Seymour got the barf bug, and was up almost the entire night letting his system, erm, right itself. Then he slept in until 1:00. Poor guy.

I let the two older kids sleep in as long as they wanted to, and kept them home just to monitor the barfingness. There was none. Back to school with you tomorrow, my dear little menaces.

Mali and I seem okay still. I certainly hope we remain so so, as we're all driving down to San Dieggy on Saturday, for her welcoming ceremony.

About Mali's temper: she gets really pissed off sometimes if she's famished and my milk doesn't let down quickly enough. Really. She does this heart-rending wail that sends me into instant panic while I check to see if I've accidentally broken one of her fingers. If I didn't dye my hair I bet it'd be snow white by now.

But she sure is a cute sleepy bunny!

Leelo's been demonstrating crazy climbing skills. He is suddenly able to instantly scale the six foot "rock wall" on our backyard playset (more panic), as well as our floor-to-ceiling cupboards (another Leelo treats hiding place eliminated).

Feeling positive about the three final babysitter candidates. They're all excellent, but one more than the others really "got" Leelo. That same person clicked with me; I'd feel the most comfortable having her hang around, seeing as she'll be part our our household chaos rather than segregated in a room with the boy like the therapists.

Also feeling better about his ability to learn, about the choice to have the babysitter come engage with him. Whenever I can steal time to read him a book, do a puzzle, sing a song, it makes a difference. You can see the cogs turn. Makes me sad that I can't spend more time doing this myself, but with Iz and Mali too it's impossible. Hence the babysitter.

Example of cogs turning: After I put the batteries back into a particularly annoying toy (it plays the Alphabet Song among others) and we spent a bit of time playing with it and then he spent even more time playing with it by himself, he went around the house singing the entire song--and even let me sing along to bits of it with him. Encouraging.

Two more Iz interludes because as her mother I find her perpetually amusing:

She made Seymour a get well card that read "2 Daddy from your eldest [picture of girl]." Not Oldest, Eldest. The whole thing made my Prince-listening and Victorian and Edwardian literature-loving heart go thumpity thump.

She asked for bread and water for breakfast, as her stomach was still slightly unstable. "Excellent," I said, "you're eating a convict's breakfast!" She looked at me as though I was a complete dimwit, and said, "No, the bread's not stale."

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