Drum-roll Please

IT'S OFF! After 5 1/2 weeks, a little more gray hair, a lot less sleep, two-year molars and one for the Vaught parenting book, Wyatt got his cast off today. Here is this morning's x-ray. I know it still looks pretty good and snapped there, but if you look closely, there is a cocoon-looking shadow all around his bone. That is NEW bone, and while bumpy and odd-looking, our doctor assures us that in one year, this bone will look good as new. In the mean time, we are on strict orders not to jump, crash, slam or be slammed by anyone or anything for the next four weeks. Yes sir. WE'VE GOT IT.

A re-cap of the day: Our appointment was at 8:40a.m. It has been raining on and off all day, pretty much. We got ready, got Wyatt ready and strapped him in that evil harness contraption one last time for the ride to Bentonville, a small town just north of us for those of you not from around here.

The wait seemed longer today than most days we've had check-ups for Wyatt. Maybe it was just us and our anticipation of a green light to get that thing off. When the doctor came and showed us this x-ray, he told the nurses to take it off! Hoorah.

We laid him on the table and the nurse powered up her saw. Trying to explain to a two-year-old that a saw is about to be within an inch, and maybe even a half-inch of your skin was just impossible, so, we told him a machine, like "Wall-E" would help get his leg out of his cast. He covered his ears and let the nurse do her thing. He stayed true to his overall attitude through this whole thing; he was brave.

It did get tough when we had to roll him to saw and crack the back of his cast off. I get it. That's weird, awkward and scary. Once pried and layers of tightly wrapped cotton were off, we saw lots of tears. It was painful for his joints and muscles because they were so stiff. We got his normal (thank God) diaper on and tried to put pants on, but he wouldn't have it. A shirt and shoes it was, then! And just like that, Wyatt was gloriously cast-free.

On the rainy drive home with a little help from some old school Aimee Mann, we went to Sonic for a chocolate milkshake. It's a strange statement to say he deserved it, because he didn't deserve any dadgum part of this, but it was what we like to call a " happy."

There he was in the back seat, sitting up in his car-seat instead of lying flat on his back looking through the window upside down. He pointed to the rain drops gliding down the glass outside of his window and said, "Awesome." My thoughts exactly, Wyatt.

The doc told us to give him a warm bath and so when I got home, my mom (up to help from Little Rock) and I went right to it. At first, he hesitated to sit up with out my hand behind him for support. The way his cast was set had him so that he was in a leaned back, sort of hips spread position. To sit up straight was difficult at first ... until he reached for something he wanted in the tub that was in front of him. I think from there, he started to trust himself again.

He wanted to be held after that. And so, I did. I told myself this day was Wyatt's and if he wanted me to hold him all day long, I would. He eventually asked to sit in the chair I thought he might drag to a brush pile to burn because his bottom had sat so long in it over the last several weeks. When it was time for his nap, he wanted to be carried. He hasn't tried to crawl or walk yet. Our hope is that by the end of the week, he'll be doing just that. We'll get there. If we got here, we'll get there, by golly.

Over my mama's delicious pot roast and fixin's last night, we said, "Wyatt may not remember all this. And, maybe that's a good thing. But, WE sure will." Another deeply felt and surprising thought I've had in all this is that it hasn't been nearly as hard as I imagine some of the cruel things life sometimes brings can be/could be. With so much support, extra helping hands, understanding and love, we made it! It's amazing how far a good (most of the time, anyway) attitude can take you. All is well.

Thanks again to all of you who cared enough to follow here, text, write on my Facebook wall, comment on pictures, send emails, packages, bring activities, toys, INCREDIBLE food, not to mention a little joy, and to those of you who prayed for and thought of us and our Wyatt through this trial. It has meant more than you'll ever know.