He loves it

I knew I'd be eager to pick up Christopher from preschool every Tuesday and Thursday, but I didn't suspect why - he has some really fun stories to share.
"So, the nurse came in and made breakfast, and it was really good!"
"Yes, and then...wait, what?"
Our drive home is full of these little tidbits, many of which make me wonder if the kid is having acid flashbacks in his carseat.
There is a small window of coherence when I first pick him up. Today, I found out that he did "everything" - he drew, wrote, played with the cement truck. He had a great art project of a fall tree - "I painted, Mommy!" - and he did a wonderful job outlining the letter E on a sheet of paper. He had pretzels and juice for snack, and asked for more juice - and said please! - and they gave him more.
There was also something about going to the potty, but I didn't catch all of it because he related it right on the cusp between coherent and crazy. Right about halfway down Clopper Road, he loses interest in the morning, switches gears, and any hope of finding out more about preschool go out the window.
While Christopher was being served breakfast by nurses, Matthew and I tooled around town like a couple of toddler-free fools. The pharmacy for Christopher's school inhaler, the grocery store for milk and Home Depot for a chain lock to contain the larger beast. Finally we rewarded ourselves by going to Borders for a quick cup of hot chocolate and some children's books. Yes, we were wild.
It's amazing how easy it is to run in and out of stores with just a small beastie who is strapped into a container. There is no bribery needed, no threats, no mad dashes to grab the last cart-with-a-car.
But, it's also pretty boring. No one asked why there is a ramp cut into the curb, who the man buying bacon is (how the hell would I know?) or why we can't watch two hours of Bugs Bunny when we get back in the car. So it's always a relief to pick up Christopher and get my newest dose of coherent/crazy stories.

Mr. Christopher goes to preschool

He started pleading to go to school at 8 a.m.
"Mommy, put me in the car? Put me in the car to school, please?" he said. And 30 minutes later, we did. He was off to school.
Christopher hopped out of the car confidently as soon as we arrived and walked toward school. He told me he'd show me where his classroom was. He wanted to see his teacher. He couldn't wait to start.
When Christopher got to the classroom, he was a little less impatient, a little more anxious. He stood uncertainly, not sure about where to go.
His teacher took things firmly in hand, saying an enthusiastic "Hi!" and showing him where to sit - "Right next to Lilly!" There was a lump of playdoh already at his place, and he attacked it happily. Brian and I snuck out - walked out, actually, since he wasn't even watching - and went to another room to do some paperwork.
Then we had the brilliant plan of going back to say goodbye. The cry of "Where are you going?" echoed through the halls as we raced out of the building.
But two and a half hours later, he came flying down the hill from the playground. His teacher said he did great. He had a start sticker on his shirt, artwork in his cubby and wanted a banana and TV at home, not necessarily in that order.
It was a good start.

Playground for two, please

Last week, in a rare interval when the tiny people in my house weren't trying to cough up a lung, we went to a playground at an elementary school. It seemed like the safest option; not many people go there outside of school hours, so my kids' germs would be long gone by the time kids returned the next day. Teachers and a soccer team were hanging around, so it wasn't deserted and creepy.
Matthew for the first time seemed to realize that playgrounds are places for, well, fun. He went down the slide (sort of; with me holding him) and smiled tentatively, sensing he was supposed to love it (he didn't, but he's very polite.) Then he sat down with Christopher and I while we made his backhoe - his "Scoop" - shovel up the small leaves that already littered the ground. Matthew, for some reason, found this hilarious. He laughed and laughed. Christopher laughed with him. The day is still far off, but it was possible to see a time when the two of them will actually play together and have fun.
The downside of the loving, happy brotherhood is the germs. My God, the germs.
Matthew and I got sick last Monday. Slight fever, cough, cold. The doctor sent him to the ER for tests. Fortunately, they confirmed that it was a really bad cold. She looked at Christopher suspiciously, but he spent his time huddled behind a bench and screaming "Don't do that! Matthew doesn't like it!" and was clearly not sick. Not then at least. But Christopher loves his brother. And he really loves to kiss his brother.
On Saturday, when I was fully recovered and Matthew was getting better, Christopher got it. Things went downhill from there. Christopher is now taking prednisone, antibiotics and albuterol. He and Matthew will both be taking maintenance respiratory medicine for the foreseeable future.
The whole experience was - is - awful, but the worst is knowing that it's just the first in a long string of shared illnesses. Especially when Christopher starts bringing home more than art projects from preschool. By January, he may be sadly resigned to getting to the car and taking a dip in the Lysol bath in the back before buckling up next to his brother.