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Happy to Be Wrong

Such an unusual state of mind for me, but no less true for it. I had been a font of negative prognostication this weekend. Simon, Matt, and I had a lovely, low-key Saturday and Sunday, featuring sandbox play, coffee houses, yard work (thanks for all the help, Jim and Evie!), dinner with friends, and lots of just hanging out. Sometimes even in PJs.

Simon slept a bit better, a condition I attribute to his reduced stress levels. Unfortunately, his “kennel cough” has turned out to be allergies, so the nose is still overflowing. A highlight from last night occurred when little Sophie, who will be three in two weeks, grabbed a napkin and wiped off Simon’s nose. She didn’t have the gentlest approach, but I give her huge props for being adorable and getting the job done.

The one dark cloud suspended in these otherwise sunny skies was the prospect of Monday. I had the notion that Simon was in decompression mode, and that when he hit KIP this morning he’d rebel mightily. To be honest, I pictured the worst screaming, crying, kicking fit yet.

But I was wrong! Matt tells me instead that Simon whimpered a bit in the car, then bucked up, walked from the parking lot to the building, whimpered a bit more, bucked up and began to play with a puzzle in is room, then whimpered only slightly when Matt left. Matt stood outside the door and testifies that within ten seconds, Simon was happily back at his puzzle. This is only the second time he has not had to be escorted out of his room for special one-on-one attention with a teacher.

Progress! And it could not come at a better time, for one week from tomorrow I head out to Boston for another business trip, and I’d very much like to be over the worst of the stress of a new schedule before I leave him for three days.

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