So because 2020 had to fuck us up the left nostril one last time on its way out, Charles's knee replacement got rescheduled to January because of the fucking pandemic. Because of course we couldn't have it done in a year in which we had already met our deductible. Of course.
The surgery went well for him, thankfully. It is pretty sad that he is now walking better, even with a walker and after having a surgeon drill into his leg and shave bone down and give him a new knee and only being a few days post-op. The doctor was all like "he should have had this done years ago, it was pretty fucked up in there with significant bone damage from them grinding" and I was all like, "yeah, I know, but insurance sucks and didn't want to do it on a 40 year old man so here we are" and then the doctor was like "well because he's a 42 year old man he is gonna swell a shit ton and probably try to over-do it because he's gonna think he's all rough and tough with his afro puff so just keep an eye on him. Oh, but if he doesn't move the knee he's gonna fuck it up so there's that. No pressure, though."
I *might* have paraphrased that. I do wish doctors talked like that though. They'd be a lot more relatable. I'm sure you are shocked to know that I talk to my clients like that.
So because this was a major surgery, he was supposed to stay the night to get pain meds under control, watch for blood clots, etc. (hence why it was cancelled due to COVID...they needed the beds). The little girls, who are the product of two incredibly anxious parents, were incredibly anxious about this surgery (shocking). They do NOT like it when either of us are gone from the house overnight, so they weren't too keen on him staying there (plus, the whole no children visiting thing...). Luckily, we live in modern society and FaceTime exists, so he was able to talk to the girls before they had to go to bed.
Now, we always have had a bedtime routine for the children and were pretty strict about it from the get-go. This has served our family well through the years, despite some people not agreeing or understanding why no, I am not going to force my kid to stay up until sunset in the summer when she is used to going to bed at 7:30. I'm also pretty good at evading their attempts to prolong the inevitable slumber awaiting them. This has endured for all three of them until they decided that they were too old for us to tuck into bed. We are 2/3 of the way done with bedtime routine, Charlie still liking us to tuck her in and go through all the little rituals that have evolved over the years.
One thing that she and Charles somehow started was this "I won!" thing as they race up the stairs. Well, I am sure you can imagine how quickly Charles would go up the stairs, considering that he needed a new fucking knee...but who actually got up there first didn't matter so much as who said "I won!" first. And of course, there's all the trash talking that Charlie can do during various competitions with her family members, and her father gives it right back because my family argues for sport.
"I won!"
"Yeah, you did, second place."
"Did you have a worst part of the day today?" (We ask for the best and worst parts of her day.)
"Yeah, that you didn't win."
And so on and so on. Every.Single.Night.
So the girls wanted their good nights with their father, partly because of tradition, partly because of worry. They both had a chance to chat with him for a bit, and we were getting ready to get off of FaceTime when Charlie came running in from the other room.
"Dad! One last thing!"
"What's that?"
"I won!"
Well played, Charlie. Well played.
