Jack, the Patient and the Clown

Jack's surgery and the first 36 hours of recovery went remarkably well. When the doctor reported to me in the waiting room that his tonsils were too big for his throat, his adenoids red with constant infection, and his ears in need of those tubes due to "thick goop" (her official doctor term), I was mighty glad that I signed him up for the torture.

Saturday night through Monday night were rough. He felt puny and forcing liquids down him was a full-time job, especially yesterday. But today does seem better. He's willingly drank most of the morning, and he's tried to keep up with his brothers in at least a half-hearted way.

He hasn't felt like joking much in the last few days, but a few days prior to surgery, he cracked me up with a comment.

Setting: The boys and I were playing in the backyard. Liam was helping Garrett learn a "new trick" on the swings, and Jack was sliding at rocket speed. Here is the conversation that took place....

Me: Liam, I really like how you're playing so nicely and helping Garrett.
Liam: I'm doing a good job?
Me: Yes, you are. I'm pleased.
Liam: I'm babysitting?
Me: [giggling] Well, I don't know that you're babysitting yet, but you're being a good big brother.
Jack: You're not babysitting! You're MANsitting!

I laughed so hard that I literally tripped over my own feet.