Tons-hell
Stage Six: Pickled

Fugue

I have been planning a post that would start, "Well, it was a difficult [period of time] but fortunately things have taken a turn for the better and... ."

And nothing.

Patrick might have turned a corner in the past day or two but he hastily turned right back around again. He is still sleeping in our bed and Steve (who would rather hang upside down by his toes than share a bed with Patrick - the kid tickles and kicks in his sleep; I find it endearing) has become a more or less permanent resident on the little inflatable bed we set up in the corner. I keep telling Steve he should just go sleep in Patrick's bed or, hell, the guest room now that my mother has left but no... he says it is too far away. It's sweet. Weird and possibly a touch martyred, but sweet.

I cannot quite figure out what is wrong with Patrick. I mean, yes, he had his tonsils and his adenoids out exactly seven days ago but he seems more... sick. Like at first he was recovering from the anesthesia and then his throat was bothering him and then he was dealing with the codeine effects and now he just seems sick. He had the night sweats again last night, which is what I think he usually does rather than run a fever. We finished watching Top Chef (is it wrong to love Top Chef?) and I went to check on Patrick. He was asleep on my side of the bed and his entire head was as wet as if he had been swimming. Today he woke up at ten in the morning, lumbered to the couch and then collapsed again. Does this sound normal to you? It sounded normal to the ENT nurse but maybe I should press the issue? He is on clindamycin as a preventative antibiotic but I worry that maybe it is not so effective with him after being on it for over a month this summer? I don't know.

Baffled over here.

Not much else going on. My mother visited and gave it as her objective opinion that the twins are so cute it is almost disgusting. Edward has been in a great mood. He continues to ride his pushcar with a reckless abandon. Once he starts pumping those fat little feet of his he gets up some serious speed. Then he crashes into the wall. Then he laughs.

Caroline joined Edward on his car but she insisted that she get to drive. She's a sensible girl.

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Caroline has a formidable vocabulary and a nice turn for mimicry so what she is not volunteering on her own we are getting her to say like so many parrot-masters. Patrick is particularly excited by the language development. I think he has concluded that the babies are not as dumb as he had feared. Not that he didn't love them or enjoy dragging them around by their footie pajamas but he did feel the need to keep pointing out that they didn't seem to know much. Then Edward (and now Caroline) demonstrated a facility with some of the letters and he decided there might be hope for them after all.   

A conversation from yesterday that you may and or may not find as funny as I did:

Patrick: Caroline can you say "one"?
Caroline: Whah!
Patrick: Caroline can you say "two"?
Caroline: Two!
Patrick: Caroline can you say "three"?
Caroline: Fwee!
Patrick: Caroline can you say "four"?
Caroline: Fwah!
Patrick: Caroline can you say "five"?
Caroline: Fiiiii!
Patrick: Caroline can you say "six"?
Caroline: Six!
Patrick: Caroline can you say "seven"?
Caroline: No!

Patrick: (pauses) Caroline can you say "seven"?
Caroline: No!

Patrick: Caroline can you say "eight"?
Caroline: Eaaaht!

A few minutes before bed last night I discovered Caroline wearing a jacket and hat over her pajamas. What ho? I asked Patrick. He said that she had brought them to him and he helped her put them on. She was also carrying a Fisher Price stable like a handbag. Not sure where she thought she was going.

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Some place fancy I guess.

Sorry to be such a dullard. I am feeling shades of this summer when Patrick was sick every day and we would wake up, manage needs all day long and then go to sleep again. Repeat.

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