Right then. Little E is off for open heart surgery again tomorrow - second time in six months.
Whilst his Dad and I have once again been reduced to blithering messes, he's just going about his business.
Granted he doesn't really understand what's about to happen. But given that his heart is struggling to pump oxygen, the fact that outwardly he's still as determined & mischievous as ever bodes well. In anticipation of tomorrow he's flirted with the nurses, hi-fived the surgeon & looked menacingly at the anaesthetist. Bring it on...
My company have once again stepped up and been great about me unexpectedly taking some time off, so that's one less thing I need to worry about.
C is about to be spoilt rotten by his grandparents for a few days and is looking forward to visiting E when he's up and about so that he can go on the helter skelter, play on the table football and, oh yes, see his brother. (The hospital - The Evelina - caters exclusively for children and has the most incredible set up).
So I best take a leaf out of the boy's book - take a deep breath, "man up" and check out some of the toys whilst I'm waiting for E's return.