All I Want for Christmas...

We were sick over Thanksgiving this year. It came on two days after Thanksgiving, actually. We had the stomach flu, all three of us, and all at the same time.

In his living memory Anakin had never been sick like that. Indeed, up 'til then, he'd looked fondly on opportunities to be sick. Mostly they involved a fever, missing school, watching a lot of television, and enjoying popsicles and ginger ale. Generally, getting sick meant a good time.

Back in 2007, when Ani was four, we'd had the flu over Christmas. Ani'd had it first, and then Kim and I came down with it while he was on the mend. We warned our friends to stay away, and a neighbor dropped a care package on our porch of homemade food and bread, and about a dozen Disney videos. It was during the dark time before we had Netflix-on-demand (and we don't buy television).

Ani looks back on it now as the best Christmas ever.

This Thanksgiving we were sick at my father's house, colonizing his bedroom, Anakin lying on a futon next to the bed with Kim and me.

"Mommy my back hurts!" he writhed.

"I know, Honey," I answered (Kim rendered mute from nausea).

"No it really, really hurts! I can't stand it!"

"I'm sorry, Ani. I know just how you feel. Mine hurts too."

"Ow! Ow! OW!"

"I wish I could make it better, Love. Unfortunately, this is what getting sick can be. It's awful, isn't it?" I reached down for his hand and found it hot and eager for attention.

It was after eleven o'clock at night and a few moments later Ani suddenly sat up to vomit, soaking his bedclothes with a bright raspberry ectoplasm. That's when Kim and I learned that parents who are acutely ill can--with a shot of helpful adrenaline--rally to strip a bed, stuff a washer, and collapse again to see stars.

Ani lay back down. In the morning he would feel remarkably better, rebounding far faster than his mommies, well enough to abandon us and thunder downstairs to Grandpa's DirectTV.

For now, however, he lay beside me, his writhing temporarily quelled, his red fingers curling around mine. He grew quiet, even contemplative.

"Wow. A day ago, Mommy, I wanted Lego Hogwart's Castle for Christmas."

"Yes, Honey, I know. You've told us. Many times." Indeed, the catalog lay dog-eared next to his futon. Star Wars Legos, Harry Potter Legos, all endlessly studied.

"Yes, but now…. All I want is to feel better."

The way he said it made me smile. There was humor there, wonder even.

He let go my hand, and I thought how hard we work as parents to keep our children from suffering. Indeed, we want them utterly spoiled (and if we are successful, we are lucky indeed!) Now here lay my seven-year-old, getting a taste of it (no pun intended), and I felt oddly relieved. Thoughtfully, Anakin appeared to be taking it in stride.

He rolled towards me, exhaled, and shut his eyes.

Now, I thought, he has an inkling of what others go through. He is closer to the true human condition, to the awareness that no matter who we are, our pleasures, our appetites, our ambitions, are all bound by our physical selves. How health, in short, is everything.

Anakin was quiet another moment, and then continued. "Mommy?"

"Yes, Hon?" I strained to hear him through the drumming in my head.

"Actually… I still do really want Hogwarts Castle."

©2010 Eliza J. Anderson