They Better Not Remove the Cute Too!

So, Collin is getting his tonsils and adenoids out in less than forty-eight hours. After much deliberation, what seems like countless appointments, hours and hours of deliberation and circles of conversations between the doctors and ourselves, this is the decision and a surgeon is going to knock out my boy, slice into his little body and take parts of his perfect anatomy away. I'm not keen on this idea. I think he's a picture of absolute perfection the way he is.

He's already practicing his sympathetic resting position.

He got up at 5:30 on Saturday morning and told Daddy, "I'm ready to get up!" Then, he marched to the couch where he rested until breakfast was prepared for him. Nice.

Thank goodness he's cute.

I'm feeling nostalgic for my sweet, sweet, sweet boy. I'm feeling wistful for the bygone days of how wonderful (not) it was to be pregnant with my dear little munchkin. At least when he was in my gigantic belly, he was safe from daggers and people wanting to take parts of his body away from him.

This whole surgery thing is freaking the mama bear in me out. What if he comes out of this sounding like Bette Davis? What if he comes out of this no better than he went in? What if he comes out of this really, really mad at me for taking his tonsils? No amount of ice cream puts those babies back, you know? Did you know they can grow back though? They can. Look it up. I swear, it's true. I live in fear of it every day. My super infected ones, removed in emergency surgery would be the ones to grow back and haunt me, wouldn't you know it!

Signing off, freaking out in California.