I asked Eric whether he thought this was our month or not. I wasn't surprised when he said, "No." He's been rather pessimistic since he was wrong about the first cycle. This time, however, he asked me right back whether I thought it was our month, and I didn't know what to say.

"Who knows?" I said. "I'm not positive at all." When he raised an eyebrow at me, I completed the thought: "It's difficult for me to be positive when you're not." He changed the subject, so I changed it right back. "How come you're being negative? Can you let me in on it?"

"Well," he dragged out, "there would be positive and negative aspects to you being pregnant right now."

Well, that's heartening. I know he's worried about money, and he's really enjoying the extra income from the library. What can I say? I don't think there's ever going to come a time in which he wouldn't be worried about having to support an extra person; Eric's just that kind of worrier. I don't mean to dismiss his feelings, but he's already admitted that he's probably a little more concerned than he needs to be. We're going to be fine, and I think he knows that. There's certainly nothing more I can do at this point to convince him of it.

I called my dad last night, and things fell out exactly the way I could have predicted they would: three times I tried to ask him about his diabetes, and three times he changed the subject. I finally threw up my hands and got the information from Mom. He had a blood sugar of 290+ when he was diagnosed, and the normal (fasting) range is between 70 and 110. He has his meter now and checks once a day, and they put him on insulin-sensitizing medication. He's doing fine with it, again as I could have predicted. He's probably enjoying the meter; he always did like playing with medical equipment and seeing bloody things (he's addicted to those surgery shows on television).

Mom's surgery is scheduled for February 18th. Then in early March, they'll take her into the hospital, put her in a secluded room, and start the radioactive iodine. Because she'll need a relatively high dosage of it, she won't be allowed any visitors; she said that even the doctors would have to wear special suits and come in with Geiger counters and whatnot. In a few days, she'll be allowed to go home, but Dad will have to move out to his parents. They can't share dishes; she'll have to flush the toilet three times before he can use it. For about a week, she can't be around anybody, or she could destroy their thyroid.

I called her "Evil Thyroid-Slayer." She laughed, and the sound of her laughter was comforting. We're going to get through this. The cancer was larger than we would have liked, and it was follicular, which is apparently not the best kind, but not the worst kind either. The doctor still gives her a 95% chance of full recovery. The surgery will likely be even harder on her than the first one, but it'll make her better.

You'll be pleased to hear that I stuck to nice, benign animal stories for today's storytime. After yesterday's fiasco, I wasn't taking any chances. To be honest, though, I think the kids enjoyed yesterday's video more than they did today's Over in the Meadow. Still, it's safer. I had a feeling that even though the fox pups and owl babies would be unclothed, this video would ruffle no parental feathers.

Only two kids came today. We're conjecturing that everybody is going outside due to the sudden warm weather. Freezing rain is being predicted for tomorrow, so I don't blame them at all.

Yesterday after I got the entry up, Kiddie Casanova came back into the library! I overheard a little voice coming from a small gathering at the Lego table: "Hello, Lacey! I always see you at the library, don't I?" It could be none other than the Prince of the Playground. He followed up his introduction with, "I know how the dinosaurs died. Wanna hear?" She didn't reply. He declared triumphantly, "An asteroid hit the earth and made a big cloud, and they couldn't breathe, and they died! It happened a long time ago."

"How long?" the damsel asked.

"Twenty-three years!"

Now tell me, where were guys like this when I was four? Eric wondered if the kid was just born with the "suave gene." In any case, he's got a wonderful future in store for him in sales or something.