Harrison's stomach flu is thankfully finally on its way out. The fever, lethargy, and vomiting have departed, and the only remaining vestiges of the sickness are a putrid diarrhea that just won't quit and a lingering diaper rash monkey butt that was once so painful he'd scream whenever you wiped his arse (which was often).
It’s been a rough week. Harrison suffered more with this flu than he did following his neurosurgery. Getting seventy stitches in one's head is apparently a more pleasant experience than fighting off this nasty bug.
Still. . .despite the fact that I've hated watching Harrison suffer, I've enjoyed spending four of the last five days with him, napping with him, cuddling him close to my chest, and helping him heal.
Harrison has been so independent lately. He's been off on his own from the moment we get home. It's been fascinating to watch him, so absorbed with whatever activity he's engaged in. He's always studying, analyzing, planning, and plotting. In the last week, he's figured out how to steer his push walker. He's also working on his constructive skills—putting blocks into a bucket and placing his rings onto the stacker, where before he was just interested in dumping the rings or blocks on the floor and then hurling the stacker and bucket across the room.
This past week has helped put Harrison's transition to independent toddlerhood and upcoming birthday in perspective: He will always be my baby and I will always be his mama—one of only two that will forever hold, kiss, and make him better when he's hurt or sick.
Right now, I'm just thankful that he's finally feeling more like himself, independence and all.
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