I went back upstairs and got the cleaning supplies out of the linen closet. I started by vacuuming the hallway, but I found I kept glancing into my room at the things I brought down from the attic. I finished the hall and then went into my room and pulled out Kevin’s baby book. The book told me a lot of stuff about Kevin’s birth that Terri had already told me. That he was a preemie, that only weighed about 4 and a half pounds at birth. Then there were pictures of him in the incubator at the hospital that nearly broke my heart and the a picture of his mom and dad taking him home. This was the first time I’d seen a picture of Kevin’s dad, he was very handsome and he and Terri seemed so happy. There were pictures of his christening, he looked about the size of a baby doll, small family though. I saw who is godparents were. I also saw that there were memorial card from their funerals tucked into that page.
I learned he said his first word at nine months, impressive, that he did his first steps at 16 months that was a bit late. So, intellectually he is advanced, physically he’s a bit behind the curve. That made sense. There were pictures of his first and second birthdays, still tiny, but with an intelligent look in his eyes. I thumbed through that for a little while longer then I turned to the photo albums.
I could have spent the whole day looking at them. Kevin and Terri and…, I realized I didn’t know Mr. O’Neil’s first name, anyway, they were a beautiful family that seemed very happy and Kevin was always super cute. I found the picture that Terri told me about and it was almost identical to the picture I sent her that morning. I chuckled a bit at that. Then there were the usual pictures you’d expect to see of a little boy; sitting on Santa’s lap, (I flipped through the years quickly, he had done it every year, right up to last year. I guess being little isn’t all bad.) first day of kindergarten, wearing his Catholic school uniform, Mickey Mouse lunchbox in hand. There were pictures from family parties, gymnastic tournaments, step dancing… Hold on, step dancing? There he was, wearing the traditional boys outfit, white shirt, tie, knee high white socks, and a navy blue, knee length kilt, kicking his legs out. That made me smile. In the next picture, same outfit, blushing and holding a trophy while getting a kiss on the cheek from a very cute little red haired girl in full traditional dress. I’d have to find out more about this.
I noticed that some of the gymnastic outfits he had more in common with the rompers that toddlers wear than they had with the mature outfit Kevin had worn during the exhibition. I looked in the box of old clothes and some of them were in there. I started having some ideas about that.
After about a half hour flipping through pictures and nosing through the box, I figured I’d better get back to the task at hand. I finished cleaning upstairs and then headed down to the main floor. Kevin was seated on the floor in the living room, with his feet stretched out under the coffee table moving his cars through a little playset that looked like a small town. He was totally absorbed. I just don’t get the boys’ fascination with cars, but I had a doll house when I was little and I could spend hours playing with that. (I remember when I was in my teens, I used to love it when my little cousins came over because, I’d sacrifice myself for a couple of hours and play with it with them. Everybody thought I was being the good older cousin, really I just loved the excuse.) Kevin still had the binky in his mouth. The bottle of milk was almost empty and his animal cracker box was lying on its side empty.
I walked over to him and cleared my throat. He looked up and smiled behind his pacifier and waved.
“Hi ya pal. Everything good?” I asked.
He smiled again and gave me a thumbs up.
“Need to go potty?” I asked.
He paused for a second and then nodded.
“You know,” I said, “I didn’t mean for you to be silent when we made our deal. I just wanted some quiet time. You can talk to me.”
He took the pacifier out of his mouth and said, “Oh, I misunderstood the rules…Could you take me to the bathroom?”
“Sure thing.” I said and reached down to pick him up. The I noticed that the front of the diaper was swollen and had a yellow tint to it.
“Uh, Kevin, it looks like you already went.”
“What? No… I…” he looked confused then he put his hand on the front of his diaper and felt it and then he looked worried, even scared and the tears started.
“Didn’t you know you went?” I asked.
He sobbed and shook his head. “I don’t know what happened,” and then the tears really started.
I went down on my knees next to him and put my arms around him. “It’s okay, it’ll be fine, don’t worry.” I said over and over.
Then I said, “Do you still need to go?”
He nodded his head.
“Do you want your pacifier.”
Again a nod. So I slipped the pacifier between his lips and picked him up and brought him to the bathroom.
I decided a call to the doctor was in order.