We had dueling criers today at 2:30AM, as Mommy got up to go to the potty and The Boy freaked out, waking the only-dozing Younger Bro and setting up a high-pitched, high-volume duet. The Boy didn't actually fall back asleep, and thus we sit at 4:30AM, with him eating cereal and me cleaning out the TiVo. I probably should be doing work now, but I'm pretty well exhausted and not concentrating very well.
Now, The Boy is telling me where his body parts are - eyes, chin, ears, nose, belly, teeth, shoulder, port. He's really quite charming, even when being kind of... well... a toddler. The Boy does enjoy his rice Chex, though.
We're tentatively planning on going to Sesame Place tomorrow, assuming that The Boy's health is acceptable. He had a great day, counts-wise, on Monday; today was a good day, up until he puked up his dinner. Granted, that could have been normal toddler random-pukes, which happen; it could have been something caught in his throat, or that he ate too much; or that something just didn't agree with him. Not sure, but we'll keep an eye on it. If he starts puking again tomorrow, or is just not himself (considering that he's been awake for 2 hours in the middle of the night, it'll be interesting to see exactly what he'll be like), then we'll think about bagging the trip.
(He's now whining that I'm not giving him the TiVo remote. He should know better. The remote control, in this house, is Musical Daddy's to wield. It's my Sceptre of Power, the One Ring. He ain't gettin' it.)
I'd like to take him, because I don't think we're going to get an actual vacation this year, unless we get absurdly lucky with counts in a couple of weeks. Last year, we got a couple of days at the shore prior to a chemo visit. This year, not entirely sure if that's going to happen. It still might, at the end of this particular cycle, considering that we can just bleach the hell out of the hotel room, but I'm not particularly optimistic.
Cute thing: when we burp Younger Bro, just like when we burped The Boy, we talk about hunting for "bubbles." Air bubbles, of course. Now, when we burp Younger Bro, The Boy heads for the little bubble dispenser and asks to get some bubbles of his own.
Great. A grape just got caught in his throat and brought some friends back. Got to go. (This doesn't count towards canceling the trip. This was a "caught in the throat" thing.)