On Wednesday, we had an appointment at good old Children's Hospital to take another look at Lemon's arm. After all the lengthy and sort of uncomfortable imaging tests that he's undergone recently, he was a little hesitant about the x-rays at first, but brightened up considerably when he understood that yes, we were really only taking pictures of his arm, and yes, really only three of them. Our orthopedist took a look at them and proclaimed Lemon's arm officially healed. Lemon put his splint in the trash all by himself--surprising the doctor who thought we might be keeping it as a memento. I cannot even begin to tell you how foul, how nasty, how embedded with stench and contagion that thing had become. No thanks. We have lots of pictures and they don't emit the aroma of death and Pediasure.
Thursday was Lemon's last day of 2-year-old nursery school. I have to say, with the hard year that we've had, school was one highlight. We had debated quite a bit as to whether to send him because we were worried about what he might catch from the other kids, and we also weren't sure whether at two he was really ready for nursery school. As it turned out, catching things from the other kids was the least of his concerns this winter, and he absolutely blossomed during his time there, making his first little friends and learning so many important life skills. I couldn't be happier about our decision to send him, and am already looking forward to the start of his 3-year-old class in September.
I don't know if it was the cast coming off, the arrival of the warm weather, the end of school, or some combination of all of the above, but Lemon basically woke up Friday morning and decided that he was in effect a three year old. To our chagrin, he's all of a sudden not taking quite so kindly to having a little brother anymore. Also in the last few days, he's figured out a bunch of new tricks to try and manipulate us, some of them very specific to CF--such as sneakily disconnecting his feeding tube from his belly while he's being put to bed, such that during his story the formula that's supposed to be getting pumped into him gets pumped all over his sheets instead, necessitating a big production of stripping the bed, wiping down the waterproof mattress cover, and remaking the bed. Or, if he is awake and lonesome during the night, pinching or kinking the feeding tube, which causes the feeding pump to alarm and bring someone running. 
Lime, meanwhile, is doing everything in his power to leave babyhood behind. He gets closer to walking every day, and is developing a very clear little personality, with defined likes and dislikes. Of course, one of the things he likes is "whatever Lemon has" and one of his dislikes is "what Lemon does to whoever tries to take what he has" so that keeps things interesting.
Speaking of interesting, we're taking the plunge this coming weekend and attempting to toilet train Lemon. Toilet training can be a challenge with any kid, but one thing I'm especially concerned about with Lemon is that with his wonky CF digestive system, he still poops something like 6 times a day (TMI, I know). I'm vaguely prepared for pee accidents (one of his friends from school gave us a test run of that when he came to visit this past weekend), but I'm not really excited about poop accidents, and I can't see how they could be avoided with someone who poops that much. Suffice it to say we will essentially be living in the back yard this weekend, and I suspect that 150-foot hose that I picked up a few weeks ago will be coming in handy...
