About five weeks ago we learned that the turtle would need to undergo minor surgery. Of course, I began to cry. If there was a way I could enter that operating room instead, I would. Obviously that wasn't an option. And this morning we all woke at 4:30am for a 6:00 appointment.
The turtle was in his pjs when we arrived. We weren't sure how long he would go before realizing he hadn't eaten since the night before. But, we lucked out. Checked in and relaxing in the playroom - the turtle remained in good spirits. After all, we waited in a room full of new books and toys.
In the end I suppose the day was hardest on Chris and me. It's never fun to be poked and prodded - but I think my little guy was happily distracted by so many new faces, places and sounds. He didn't know how sad it is for such a little boy to be hooked up to such big machines.
And now the turtle's hospital adventure has come to an end. We're home. My boys are napping, and the lasagna is out of the oven. Our apartment smells like love, good health and melted cheese. And for just this moment, all is right in the world.