Last night Jake wanted to go out to eat. I was thrilled. He is a completely different kid than a week and a half ago. Thank goodness his hallucinations and confusion was a drug toxicity that was reversible. We went to a Japanese Hibachi grill. I was surprised he didn’t insist on Buffalo Wild Wings, but his new GI tract lining can’t handle it yet. He protested when I suggested we let him off at the front door. Mom, I want to walk. Quit treating me like a baby. I try not to be obvious as I watch Jake and Molly casually talk over their meal. I’m in awe of both of them, even before Jake got sick. I’m thrilled as he takes bites of steak, chicken and shrimp. A mother always feels better when her baby eats. We go to Best Buy; Molly is anxious to get her laptop for college. When I went to college, I bought a notebook, pens and pencils. The kind you had to sharpen. “Nobody cares, Mom.” Molly decides she needs Jake to help her with her decision. Mom, where’s the bathroom? I need to throw up. It wasn’t his whole meal by any means, and I was thankful. He sat down on the floor of the store until it passed. It did, and he resumed looking on his phone for coupons and price matches. This morning Jake was up and wanted to take Ellie outside to play. He grabbed his skateboard. Are you sure, Jake? “Mother, lay off. I just want to see if I’m getting my balance back.” Luckily he tires out before he has a chance to test it out. We make a trip to Walmart, and while I’m making lunch, Jake says to me. Guess what, Mom? Last night after you went to bed, I ate an apple. With a knife. Like a cowboy. I didn’t hurt myself.  “That’s great, Jake, but did you remember to wash it first?”

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