is just one of the books that my mother sent our way to help explain to kiddo what's going to happen to him next month. DH and I secretly loathe the Franklin TV show, on account of it's so treacly sweet my gag reflex kicks in. Although the obvious Canadian accents are kind of funny. But the book seems OK. Except for the part where Franklin doesn't want an X-ray because it'll show he's scared inside and not brave. I'm pretty sure an actual kid is not going to be thinking along those lines. More like, "I don't wanna wear the apron! Moooooommmmmm!"
Kiddo is fascinated by the books. (There are two others. One involves stickers.) I've explained to him that he'll be going to the hospital just like Franklin and the doctor will fix his eyes. Which he seems all right with. He had his physical today to get the all-clear for the surgery, and now we know he's in the 75th percentile for weight and height, shocking us not at all because Daddy is 6-foot-2. We also know that he is not cool with tongue depressors, unless there's a lollipop in it for him after.
The surgery is set for the hour of Ungodly Early in the Morning. Probably better to get it over with, and easier to keep him from eating beforehand, but harder to get to the hospital on time. We might have to get a hotel room in the area the night before. Slightly ironical, since that's more or less the area we used to live in. I guess we couldn't crash at our old place overnight, since the new owners might get irked.
He said out of nowhere this morning that his eye hurt. I think that means the surgery is the right thing.
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