Crazy.

This morning, while I was still in a deep sleep, Brian came bounding into my room, jumped on to my stomach, squeezed and patted my cheeks and said, "You go cwaaaazy".

Yes, buddy, I am going crazy.  But laughing and smiling all the way.

Today was the first day he was back to himself after his illness.  He's still coughing and snotting everywhere, but the fever is gone, sleeping is back to normal, and the light is back in his eyes.

The above phrase is one I always say to him in  a silly voice when he starts to stim big time- like when he is flailing around on the couch, rocking back and forth, flapping hands, laughing hysterically, and repeating "digga digga digga" all at the same time.  Then I sit on him and give him some joint compressions and deep squeezes until he's come back down.  He's repeated the phrase to me at times, but I've never heard him say it independently.

What a great way to let me know he's coming out of his sickness-induced coma- that he's gonna make me go crazy.  And he succeeded- just listening to that damn Penguin Race stay on for thirty minutes is enough to put anyone in the nut house.  At least it's now getting the flaps it deserved, that he didn't give to it on Christmas morning.