Kelly loves nothing as much as when I take impromptu photos of him— like this one, Friday afternoon, as he was eating his final meal at CHOP before heading home. Spaghetti and meatballs. Looked pretty good.

The Kid was looking pretty good, too. After three nights in the hospital, a couple quarts of saline solution, a load of steroids and a Friday afternoon transfusion of a unit of blood,  he was all pumped up and ready to get home. Kevin was glad to avoid a second night sleeping on the bench in the room that he and Virginia tag-team on these extended visits.

That said, Kelly’s not 100 percent, but the symptoms that brought us back to the hospital have abated, and we have changed the frequency on the Remicade treatments (we’re going to go for every 6 weeks, not 8). Kelly’s been good-natured about it, and he continues to impress his mom and dad with his increased composure and ability to play the same video game for hours on end. Who knew he had such stamina?

As always, thanks to everyone for all the good thoughts and prayers. As strange as it sounds, we try to leave the hospital grateful—for the excellent care available within an hour of our house, for the understanding bosses and flexible co-workers, for caring friends and family, for the fact that things could always be worse. All those things help to balance out the truth that works its way into our heads a little more each time we have to do this—that Kelly will be dealing with this his entire life, and it’s our job to equip him to do just that, with resolve and intelligence and grace. He will—with plenty of help. Thanks, everyone.