Treasure Island

Albie was a bit cute this morning as I showed him his new basket of “treasures” that I put together for him. “Treasures” as in things from about the house that this guy finds mystifyingly alluring: latest bundle including such delights as an egg cup, a tea strainer, and a paua shell. Fisher Price have got nothing on me.

Mum, have you SEEN what is in this basket? It is UNREAL!

Oh look here! Look, a yellow ball! Look, a stone! Look, a plastic lid!

Mega morning Mum! And then he was back to sleep again for his second nap before 10.30am. I ignored it for a while, blamed it on doing this, or going there – but we have had a quiet week at home now, and he is undoubtedly getting more and more tired. Gone are the morning and afternoon naps and instead we are on a pretty short cycle of wake, eat, play and sleep x infinity.  Its like he is a bub all over again.

Its all down to his growth and his shunt. As he gets bigger, his shunt (which stays the same size) supplies proportionately less blood to his lungs so less in turn gets oxygenated. The result is that his oxygen saturation levels are going down, sitting now in the early 80s. If we were to climb a really tall mountain, we’d get lower oxygen saturation levels too. Its amazing to me that he is up a mountain every day just sitting in our front room. Amazing.

I am not thinking too hard about the fact that from here he will only get more tired, and things will only get harder for him, between now and surgery. Not that Wrigglesworth seems to mind at the moment. He is still full of joy –  just the tired, mellow variety.

PS. Yeah, I remain an addict to knitted goods. Guilty as charged.

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