Speaking of hair, Quinn likes it when I run my hands through his. He'll sit down in my lap and say, "Mama, pay me hair." Mama, play with my hair. So I do. How could I not?
Sometimes, lately, he wants to return the favor. He plays with my hair, and we talk about the texture. "Is Mama's hair fuzzy?" I ask. "Si." He says. (He speaks one word of Spanish -- daycare's contribution to his bilingual education).
The other day, I asked him -- tentatively, because I worry about creating unnecessary anxiety in him -- "Are you happy Mama has hair again?"
"Si," he said. "All better now."
I sure hope so. I have my first post-chemo scan tomorrow. Fingers crossed.