Father’s Day 2014

Was spent at our friend Dalia’s Bat Mitzva. We had a blast, despite Brady and I both coming down with a stomach bug. A few photos say it better than I can:

Laura and Brady doing the funky chicken at the Dalia Goldberg Bat Mitzva

Kids Dancing (unfortunately the best shot I got)

The Hamilton Kimballs at the Dalia Goldberg Bat Mitzva

A family photo taken by Frank. Note Brady’s expression – this was shortly before Susan took the kids back to the hotel because Brady was feeling poorly. It took me a few hours to catch up to him.

Less unhappy news

To counter the somewhat grim health story about my son that precedes this, here’s a photo of this year’s flowers blooming:

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They’re thriving. When we first moved into the house, only 2 came up. There are 5-6 stalks each with 3-4 flowers on them this year. As you can see, they’re gorgeous.

This wasn’t much fun the second time either

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Brady was in the emergency room for the second time in his young life, once again for a seizure brought on by a rapid spike in temperature. Last time this happened it was absolutely terrifying. Susan and I spent a horrific 30 minutes driving to the hospital with basically no information aside from ‘he had a seizure.’ This time was sort of the same deal, but with us sitting there thinking ‘man, basically I hope this is the same thing.’

It was. He had a second febrile seizure and the doctors were not particularly concerned. His primary care doctor didn’t even think it necessary to see him the day after the event, they’re so unconcerned, so I’m trying hard to follow their lead.

He and I spent the day together while he recuperated and it was fun, though he did manage to scare me about as badly as I’ve ever been scared. He went down for his nap still with a mild fever. I went up to check on him after 2 hours and he was laying there staring off into space with a blank look. He didn’t react to me entering the room or me saying his name several times, causing me to panic and rush over to him, at which point he sleepily looked up at me and said ‘what, Dad?’

What indeed. This child rearing stuff is tough!