“Christian, you must tell me when you’re hungry.
You can do that. You can take Mommy’s hand and lead Mommy to the kitchen and
point.” She points her long finger at me. Her nail is shiny and pink. It is
pretty. But I don’t know if my new mommy is mad or not. I have finished all my
dinner. Macaroni and cheese. It tastes good.
“I don’t want you to be hungry, darling. Okay? Now
would you like some ice cream?”
My head says yes! Mommy smiles at me. I like her
smiles. They are better than macaroni and cheese.
The tree is pretty. I stand and look at it and hug
my blankie. The lights twinkle and are all different colors, and the
orn-a-ments are all different colors. I like the blue ones. And on the top of
the tree is a big star. Daddy held Lelliot up, and Lel- liot put the star on
the tree. Lelliot likes putting the star on the tree. I want to put the star on
the tree . . . but I don’t want Daddy to hold me up high. I don’t want him to
hold me. The star is sparkly and bright.
Beside the tree is the piano. My new mommy lets me
touch the black and the white on the piano. Black and white. I like the white
sounds. The black sound is wrong. But I like the black sound, too. I go white
to black. White to black. Black to white. White, white, white, white. Black,
black, black, black. I like the sound. I like the sound a lot.
“Do you want me to play for you, Christian?”
My new mommy sits down. She touches the white and
the black, and the songs come. She presses the pedals underneath. Sometimes
it’s loud and some- times it’s quiet. The song is happy. Lelliot likes Mommy to
sing, too. Mommy sings about an ugly duckling. Mommy makes a funny quacking
noise. Lelliot makes the funny quacking noise, and he makes his arms like wings
and flaps them up and down like a bird. Lelliot is funny.
Mommy laughs. Lelliot laughs. I laugh.
“You like
this song, Christian?” And Mommy has her sad-happy face.
I have a stocking. It is red and it has a picture
of a man with a red hat and a big white beard. He is Santa. Santa brings
presents. I have seen pictures of Santa. But Santa never brought me presents
before. I was bad. Santa doesn’t bring presents to boys who are bad. Now I am
good. My new mommy says I am good, very good. New Mommy doesn’t know. I must
never tell New Mommy . . . but I am bad. I don’t want New Mommy to know that.
Daddy hangs the stocking over the fireplace.
Lelliot has a stocking, too. Lelliot can read the word on his stock-ing. It
says Lelliot. There is a word on my stock- ing. Christian. New Mommy spells it
out. C-H-R-I-S-T-I-A-N.
Daddy sits on my bed. He reads to me. I hold my
blankie. I have a big room. Sometimes the room is dark and I have bad dreams.
Bad dreams about before. My new mommy comes to bed with me when I have the bad
dreams. She lies down and she sings soft songs and I go to sleep. She smells of
soft and new and lovely. My new mommy is not cold. Not like... not like... And
my bad dreams go when she is there asleep with me.
Santa has been here. Santa does not know I have
been bad. I am glad Santa does not know. I have a train and a plane and a
helicopter and a car and a helicopter. My helicopter can fly. My helicopter is
blue. It flies around the Christmas tree. It flies over the piano and lands in
the middle of the white. It flies over Mommy and flies over Daddy and flies
over Lelliot as he plays with the Lego. The helicopter flies through the house,
through the dining room, through the kitchen. He flies past the door to Daddy’s
study and upstairs in my bedroom, in Lelliot’s bedroom, Mommy and Daddy’s
bedroom. He flies through the house, because it’s my house. My house where I
live.
Just beautiful.
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