Abbers Bejabbers, that is.
Before going into Pittsburgh, Abbie had her bi-monthly (or so) MRI. They knew that we were leaving town, so the oncologists graciously took the extra time to look over the scans while Chris and Abbie were still there, so that we wouldn't have to spend the weekend worrying about the results. No tumor growth! More of that "unremarkable" wonderfulness. :)
We were worried that her hand strength had declined veeeeeeeeery slightly, so the wait for this scan was more nerve-racking than usual, but it's looking like the apparent weakening is mostly due to Abbie being a lazy 3 year old who sometimes just doesn't want to pull up her own underwear. She was a champ at the hospital, though. As always. It's like she read all those articles about the stereotypical brave/plucky/saintly cancer kids and decided to make that her MO. She follows instructions exactly, never complains (even when it involves needles), and keeps smiling and laughing throughout. She even, when offered a stuffed animal, politely declined, telling the nurse that she has enough toys right now, thank you. (Granted, Abbie had a point. I could literally fill a walk-in closet with all the stuffed animals and various other toys this kid has been showered with at hospitals. People see that little cloud of golden hair and are immediately compelled to lay offerings of teddy bears and baby bunnies at her feet.)
I'm proud of this kid. And, too, I am so grateful for this time we have with her. She just gets sweeter, and funnier - so much funnier! - with every day. She is just the quirkiest little thing, and I am often awed by the privilege I've been given to be her mother.
I recently bought some pomegranate-scented hand soap for my bathroom, and for some reason Abbie is just in love with it. She generally uses the hall bathroom, but several times a day I will see in my peripheral vision a streak of naked toddler coming out of the bathroom, and hear a distinctive little hee hee hee giggle. It's just Abbie, "sneaking" into my room to get a shot of the smelly-soap. Once her hands have been washed (and her pants put back on, without help if she is feeling like a big girl, with help if she's in a hurry) she'll invariable make me smell the faint traces of pomegranate, and smile up at me, waiting to hear how beautiful she smells. And I tell her that she smells beautiful. I say it every time. And I thank God for this miracle, that my little girl is here, and healthy, and obsessed with smelly soap.
Before going into Pittsburgh, Abbie had her bi-monthly (or so) MRI. They knew that we were leaving town, so the oncologists graciously took the extra time to look over the scans while Chris and Abbie were still there, so that we wouldn't have to spend the weekend worrying about the results. No tumor growth! More of that "unremarkable" wonderfulness. :)
We were worried that her hand strength had declined veeeeeeeeery slightly, so the wait for this scan was more nerve-racking than usual, but it's looking like the apparent weakening is mostly due to Abbie being a lazy 3 year old who sometimes just doesn't want to pull up her own underwear. She was a champ at the hospital, though. As always. It's like she read all those articles about the stereotypical brave/plucky/saintly cancer kids and decided to make that her MO. She follows instructions exactly, never complains (even when it involves needles), and keeps smiling and laughing throughout. She even, when offered a stuffed animal, politely declined, telling the nurse that she has enough toys right now, thank you. (Granted, Abbie had a point. I could literally fill a walk-in closet with all the stuffed animals and various other toys this kid has been showered with at hospitals. People see that little cloud of golden hair and are immediately compelled to lay offerings of teddy bears and baby bunnies at her feet.)
I'm proud of this kid. And, too, I am so grateful for this time we have with her. She just gets sweeter, and funnier - so much funnier! - with every day. She is just the quirkiest little thing, and I am often awed by the privilege I've been given to be her mother.
I recently bought some pomegranate-scented hand soap for my bathroom, and for some reason Abbie is just in love with it. She generally uses the hall bathroom, but several times a day I will see in my peripheral vision a streak of naked toddler coming out of the bathroom, and hear a distinctive little hee hee hee giggle. It's just Abbie, "sneaking" into my room to get a shot of the smelly-soap. Once her hands have been washed (and her pants put back on, without help if she is feeling like a big girl, with help if she's in a hurry) she'll invariable make me smell the faint traces of pomegranate, and smile up at me, waiting to hear how beautiful she smells. And I tell her that she smells beautiful. I say it every time. And I thank God for this miracle, that my little girl is here, and healthy, and obsessed with smelly soap.
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