I found while I was out running today that I was holding my breath in. Just a little.
It's a crazy week ahead filled with family reunions, the wedding, birthdays, MRI scans (mine) and the biggest thing of all (to my mind) is what is happening to Mr Small.
I should say at this point that my small child is quite possibly the most mischievous creature ever created. In case you think I am exaggerating, here is irrevocable proof. And this is in the last 12 weeks or so.





And so I am a little tense.
Because on Wednesday before the sun rises I will wrap my Mr Small in a warm blanket and strap him into his car-seat. I'll drive him to hospital and spend a while battling to stop him removing the anaesthetic cream the nurse will place on the back of his chubby little hand.
I'll smile, and I'll laugh and I'll keep him occupied. And he will put his little hand in mine as we walk into the operating room. He will sit on my lap and I will sing him his special song. I'll keep him distracted while they put the injection in his hand. My face will be the last face he sees as he drifts into a deep sleep.
And then they will whisk me out of the room while they perform a very simple operation that will help his hearing improve.
And I'll pace the floor outside waiting.
And when they call me to say he is in post-op and I can come and see him now.
Then,
then I'll release the breath I've been holding since today.