Fiona is having her tonsils taken out this week. I’m hoping for big things. She’s been an absolute mess for about 6 months — tired, cranky, and generally pissed off. For a while I blamed it on Sidney — and still partly do. After all, nothing says Screw You like a new baby. But one night M called me in to Fi’s room, where I heard the most dreadful noise. Her snoring has always been bad, but this time she sounded like she was gurgling, and then choking. And since then it’s gotten progressively worse. She has sleep apnea — waking herself up all night, and never going into a very deep sleep.  Hence the crappy mood (If anyone knows about the effects of sleep deprivations, it’s me.) So, last week we took her to the ENT, and this week they come out. I thoroughly expect her to make a full recovery in hours and be a completely changed toddler: cheerful, easygoing, continually pleasant. Almost like an episode of a medical drama where parents can’t figure out why their adolescent is behaving so badly until the doctor finds something strange chemical imbalance which, when corrected with a small, quick procedure, changes her personality forever.

M warns me not to get my hopes up. After all the boys’ tonsils came out and look at them.

But still, I can hope. Can’t I?

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