Today didn't start promisingly. The Boy ate a Trader Joe's cereal bar for breakfast, which was what he chose to eat. He threw it up about fifteen minutes later, all over his and my clothes as we were starting the final departing procedure. Sigh. So, I called the center and prepared to bring him in for a check-up.
The doctor bitched me out about the food choices that we made. Turns out, the chemo combined with the stomach virus ripped the lining of his gastrointestinal tract to shreds. What this means is that he can only really digest simple foods for the time being - potatoes, rice, apples, that sort of thing. Dumb Musical Daddy is trying to feed The Boy gluten free cereal bars and such. S-M-R-T, smart, smart, smart.
Anyway. I went to school, made the plans to get him into St. Barnabas and left school a little bit early. No biggie. I arrived at the hospital at about 1:15. My brother was there with The Boy. I gotta say - my brother and his wife did great by us this week, for sure.
Granted, TB was in a great mood today and felt like winding my brother around his little finger. Point of order: the three of us were sitting on the floor, playing with blocks. The Boy crawled over to my brother, used his shirt to stand, then put his arms out and hugged him. Game over, man, game over... My brother was dead in his tracks, completely at the mercy of this cute little man.
We got home around 3:30, after discovering that his white blood count was 0.7, which is REALLY low - basically, a step above no immune system at all. He and I played for a bit then napped until Mom got home, and we played for a bit afterwards. The Wife made all of us dinner, and I left for my marching band dessert.
It's interesting how The Boy is becoming more interactive with us. He conveyed extreme hunger tonight by crawling over to his high chair and yanking on the straps. When we picked him up and brought him back into the living room, he crawled back, pulled on the straps and looked at us expectantly. The Wife made a cream of rice with honey bowl for him, which he loved.
When I got home tonight, he was asleep on her lap. He opened his eyes and reached for me when I came close. I grabbed him, changed him into his night diaper and pajamas, and tossed him onto the bed. The three of us had great crazy baby time for a while. Our new bed frame has a shelf behind the bed, where the remote controls are kept. I'll be interested to see how things are going to work with the baby and that shelf. Anyway, he would crawl over us and up to the shelf to pick up a remote or a water bottle or whatever.
So, I'm playing with him at this point. He turns his back to me, crawls to the shelf and picks up the Vitamin Water bottle I had been drinking earlier. He crawls back, sits down, holds the bottle by the top and proceeds to hit me on the head with it repeatedly, grinning widely at Mom. This is hilarious, naturally, so we're laughing our rears off (they came back, with friends) and passing those laughs to him. Really funny moment. He's quite creative and intelligent, and he's already developing into a bit of a wiseass.
He gets that from his mother, I'm sure.