Who's your Daddy?

Okay, okay, I know I owe a major post about Nik turning six and all that stuff.  And another one about how the poor boy has been so, so , SO stinking sick that we’ve narrowly averted trips to the ER for respiratory distress and all sorts of fun stuff.  It’s coming, I swear.  But then, so is Christmas.  Frankly, the holiday may arrive before I get to those posts at the speed with which our days are passing.

Nik’s finally recovering from this dread illness.  H1N1? Maybe; no one ever bothered to test. Roseola? Check. Bronchitis? Check. Antibiotics? Double check! Nebulizer treatments? Check. Inhaled steroids? Check. Oral steroids? Check.  I think you get the general picture, no?

In the middle of this rousing fun, Nik had a pretty good day today.  He actually ate an apple for the first time.  Yes, you read that right; my son —the challenged-eater with the voracious appetite and non-finicky palate— bit and chewed AND SWALLOWED nearly a third of an apple at lunch time.  Granted, I still need to follow the bites with some pureed food so he doesn’t get all freaked out by the chunky texture. 

HE.ATE.APPLE!

I thought that was the pinnacle of my day.  Considering the subsequent trip to the lab for a blood draw in which they had to stick Nik twice, it very well could have been.  My son, finally able to breathe with relative ease after days of being in dire straits, had other things in mind.  Without narrating a long and unimportant set-up, suffice to say the boy blew both Niksdad and me away…
by saying Mama and Papa.

TWICE. 

INTENTIONALLY.

Using sign language, too—leaving no room for doubt.

Okay, fine, I admit it was prompted.  But I never expected to hear a tiny, breathy little voice say the actual words.

I’m not sure, but I think I saw Niksdad wipe a tear away.  I can’t be too certain; my vision was a bit blurry.