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Then, she really did smile, and I felt good again. Because I’d made it happen.
“Come on, my little man,” she said, carrying me back to the stairs. “Let’s go make some cookies, okay?”
“Yeah!” I threw my fists in the air like Superman.
“Chocolate chip?”
I shook my head.
Gramma looked surprised.
“No?! But you love chocolate chip!”
“Iwannamake oatmeal today.”
“Really?”
She couldn’t believe it. Gramma knew I didn’t like oatmeal.
“Yeah.” I stuck my bottom lip outbecause,now, I was sad even though I didn’t really know why. “They’re Mommy’s favorite.”
Then, Gramma was sad again, too, but she nodded. “Okay, little Soldier. We’ll make oatmeal cookies for Mommy.”
***
Age Six
Grampa zoomed around the living room and made the plane noises. My arms stretched out real wide, and Gramma laughed as she put another sparkly ornament onto the Christmas tree.
It was the biggest, glitteriest tree I’d ever seen, and I knew Santa wasgonnalove it and leave me tons and tons of presents.
“I knowbeingan airplane is fun, but I think someone needs to get some sleep,” Gramma said, and I knew she was talking about me.
“No!” I yelled, tryingrealhard not to yawn. “Igottastay up for Santa!”
Grampa put me down and bent over to tap my chin. “Oh, but if you stay up, Santa won’t come.”
I couldn’t help it. I yawned big, stretching my mouth out like a lion, and Gramma laughed again.
“How about Grampa flies you up to your room and gives you a nice, soft landing in your bed?”
I looked at the tree and felt a little sad. If I went to bed, I wouldn’t get to see if Santa liked it or the tinsel I’d helped put on the branches. But I really was getting sleepy, and what if he didn’t come if I was awake anyway?
So, I stuck my lip out and nodded, and Grampa chuckled, picking me up once again and zooming all the way up the stairs and down the hall to my room.
Mommy’s door was open, and she wasn’t inside.
She hadn’t been inside in a long time.
Grampa swooped me down onto my Mickey blanket and knelt at the side of the bed. He smiled, and I told him I thought he looked a lot like Santa. That made him happy, and he smiled even bigger.
“You think so, huh?”
I nodded. “Yeah.‘Causeyou have a big white beard and glasses.”
“Do you think”—Grampa came real close and made his eyes big—“Icould be Santa?”
I couldn’t stop laughing. “Nooo!”
