Sunday, March 30, 2014

In Which My Baby Isn't Such A Baby Anymore

I have a computer again!  It's exciting!  Connor and I both celebrated by contracting a glorious case of what felt like a combination of strep throat and malaria.  The little guy spent an entire week sprawled out on my chest in our reclining chair as it was the only way he could breathe.  I'm fully recovered now and he is much improved, but he still sounds a bit like a Victorian consumptive patient.  I keep having the urge to start carrying around white lace-edged handkerchiefs to hold over his mouth while he coughs.

Eden stayed ridiculously healthy, of course.  This child has not been sick a single day since she came home; apparently living with several hundred other children is a pretty good way to build up your immune system!  She was a huge help while I was convalescing; she cooked dinner several times and helped around the house a ton.  That's my girl!

Connor improved enough to go back to school just in time for Spring Break to start up.  I can't say it will be a particularly exciting break, as both my children would prefer to be in school every day of the week with no holidays at all.  Also I needed to cram as many appointments in as possible while they are off, so they'll be having thrilling adventures like getting fitted for new AFOs and going to the dentist.  Huzzah!

There is one exciting, though slightly terrifying thing happening during Spring Break though-- Connor will be turning eight years old on Tuesday.  Eight years old.  I know I say this about every birthday he has, but that doesn't actually seem like something that's possible.  He'll be in third grade next year.  Whoa.

Even though he's still really, really tiny (at forty-two inches and forty pounds, he's proportionate but the size of the average five year old) it's becoming more clear by the day that he's no longer such a little boy anymore.  His face is longer and losing some of its baby-roundness, though his cheeks and hands will always keep a bit of that due to his genetic condition.  He has six of his permanent teeth and two more primary teeth on the way out, and his reactions to the world around him are more mature as well.  I'm still going to have to take some time to get used to the idea that I'll be parenting an eight year old and a sixteen year old this year, though.

It just seems hard to believe!

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