There's still a long way to go and we don't know how it will end. He's exhausted (or Makka Pakk-ed as we've started saying. We don't get out much.), dizzy and can't do too much, but he's getting better. And after an unimaginably dark week for him, there's suddenly a lot of optimism going on around Gipsy Hill. Crikey, how amazing is modern medicine? And how lucky are we to live here in this country in this era and to be able to benefit from it? It's not just James's sight that's come back, it's his chance to see his little boy grow up.
Anyway, getting a bit gushy there - I think I'm a bit Makka Pakk-ed too. For that reason I was overjoyed when my mum swooped in this weekend to lend a hand. And aren't mums brilliant? She arrived with what appeared to be the spoils of a smash-and-grab at M&S Food and Krispy Kreme, took Samuel and packed me off to the hairdressers so I could get my roots sorted. Samuel was thrilled to have a bit of Granny time too. Legend.
And just in case we needed any more reasons to look be cheerful, me and Mum found one when we took Samuel to the park today. Somewhere between our front door and the playground, he dropped his beloved Sophie giraffe. I resigned myself to the fact that Sophie was gone for good - that there was no chance we'd ever find her again in London. And then, as we heading back, mum spotted her and laughed out loud. There she was, perched astride a plaque, with a panoramic view of the city behind her. Some kind soul had made sure she'd be spotted and reunited with her grumpy little owner.
This week is going to be so much better than last week. I can feel it.