(not really, just a slow recovery and lots of therapy)
The day before Christmas Eve Scarlett was finally being discharged. Sean looked around the living room as he waited for Lilian and Scarlett to arrive. There were almost no decorations up aside from the tree, and there was a standing frame for Scarlett set up in one corner looking terribly out of place. A stack of Christmas cards with the girls' picture that never got sent sat on the coffee table. This certainly wasn't how Sean had imagined the holiday, the first where Scarlett would really understand what was going on. But at least Scarlett was still with them, so he was thankful for that even though she was a far cry from the wild, independent little person she had been just a few short weeks ago. Her speech was almost where it had been before and she was starting to eat pureed foods and drink thickened liquids, but she was barely crawling; walking independently probably wasn't going to happen for a while yet. She could get herself into a sitting position, but with her poor balance and core strength she tended to topple over after a couple minutes without support. Her right hand was virtually useless and she wore braces on both legs. The right one only supported her foot and ankle, but the left one went to just below the knee. Worst of all, her mind was fully intact and, coupled with her two-year-old temperament, the frustration of not being able to do the things she knew she should be able to do led to epic meltdowns multiple times a day.