Written 2 days ago:

Today Ava, Carter and I went to Nana and Da’s house to retrieve some medical supplies that I needed to change Carter’s dressings, and while we were there we decided to raid their cabinets and play with all of their stuff (while the cat’s away…). First we couldn’t find the birdseed so we improvised with some of the whole grains in the pantry, which immediately brought results. Since I could only identify the chickadees, we then consulted the bird books and discovered that we had a slate colored junco (I think) and a red-breasted nuthatch. They all like flaxseed.
This piqued Ava’s interest, and she spent a long time flipping through the other field guides. There is one of mammals, and so she asked me what a mammal was and I told her that mammals nursed their babies (I left it at that), and she was so intrigued. Each animal that she found in it was scrutinized: “Mommy, are skunks mammals?” “yup!” “are dolphins mammals?” “uh-huh” “are caterpillars mammals?” “no, honey, that is the butterfly book.” And then when she was finished with that, and Carter was finished talking to the birds through the glass, they both retired to Nana’s room where they set up an entire play area and then shut the door. I opened it, and Ava said “Mom, we’re playing. We’re FINE. Don’t worry. We’re ok and we’re having a good time. I’m helping Carter play.”

And then she shut the door.

I stood there, flabbergasted, then slowly opened the door (afraid to jostle the confluence of energy in the universe that brought this event to being) and said, “thank you Ava. You guys are doing great, but I need the door open so that I can help if something goes wrong. I won’t bother you though.” That was the understatement of the century. She allowed the door to remain open, and I stood in the kitchen, completely at a loss. Do I sit down? Dare I sit down? Wouldn’t that ensure the end of this good fortune? I compromised. I stayed on my feet, but I read a magazine at the counter and drank a cup of tea. Sweet solitude.

Written January 20 (really today):

Carter’s hands are getting better. I know that I have not written about it, but it has just been too much to do so. His left hand is nearly completely healed, though the new skin is still tender and he prefers to have a sock over it. But there is no bandage as of this evening and no medicine, only cream to keep it moisturized. His right hand continues to need bacitracin and gauze, though only on the part of his palm just under his fingers. Soon that hand will be gauze-less as well. One of his new favorite words is “hush” – in a whisper a la Goodnight Moon. It is good for the library where today he got so excited he just started screaming. At everything. The fish, the books, the toys, everything.

Ava is such a grown-up trapped in a 3-year-old body (and limbic system). Today she asked which pipe her food went down. So I told her. Then she asked a bit about the trachea, and then she paused and said, “so what goes in these?” With that, she pointed to her jugular. I stared at her, wondering how in the world she knew that there was something there that was a ‘pipe’—is it just intuition? To be able to feel that there is movement of some substance in the side of your neck? Do you know that it is there because it is so crucial? That there is an innate need to protect it? HOW DID SHE KNOW THAT????? So bizarre. And amazing. After I finished telling her about blood going to and from her brain, and then a bit about her brain, she was satisfied. The brain is old hat though—we have had plenty of discussions about what your brain does. Usually begun with “Ava! Please! Think before you put something up your brother’s nose!”