Happy Meals

Nanette recently progressed from scheduled feedings to "feed on demand."

She still has the NG tube but she's getting a lot of her nourishment from a bottle, and she nursed the old-fashioned way for about an hour yesterday at one sitting.

Oh, happy meal!

The kids and I arrived late last night, but still in time to catch Nanette awake. I took Katie into the NICU and picked her up so that she could see into the crib. We slipped around the big recliner that takes up a good portion of the middle of the room and then we leaned over the crib and got our first good look at baby sister. Katie smiled and took a deep breath.

"Her tubes are gone," Katie said.

Nanette's eyes grew wide when she saw Katie and me, and she turned toward the picture of the kids that hangs on her crib close to her eye level. She studied that photo for a moment and then turned back toward Katie and made a little gurgling coo.

Katie giggled and clapped the heels of her hands together. When Nanette looks at you, you really can feel the force of love and life flowing. Her struggles have not made her weak, they have made her strong.

JoAnn gathered Nanette into her arms and they settled into the recliner to finish up the last half of a bottle, so I took Katie back out to the waiting room. Grams sat with Aunt Janie and Gordon and Josie. Carter ran up and down the hallway like a race car, stopping at each doorway to practice karate on the handles, flicking the levers down and letting them snap back up. I decided not to take him into the NICU, but when he realized that we were about to leave, he stopped suddenly and stood very still. He had a little teddy bear in his hands, his Happy Meal prize from the day. He squeezed it tight and stared into my eyes.

"Do you want to go back and see your sister?" I asked.

Carter nodded. He held that little bear tight, and I had to pry it out of his fingers to get him to wash his hands before he entered the sterile zone.

Now, the Happy Meal is perhaps one of the most brilliant of the McDonalds inventions. Carter begs for McDonalds not for the food, but for the toy that he gets in the Happy Meal. The saving grace is that Katie and Carter both prefer apple slices to fries. Of course, given the choice, they'd choose soda pop over milk, but they don't get the choice. (Carter, for some odd reason, developed a fondness for Mr. Pibb while staying at the Ronald McDonald House.) Anyway, the toys are regarded with awe, no matter what they are. This month, the marketing gurus at McD's have teamed up with the marketing gurus at Build Your Own Bear, and together they are giving out these teddy bears that are the size of chubby mice.

With his arms washed from fingertips to elbows, Carter grabbed his bear and we pushed through the double doors. We walked past Silus' cubicle and waved at Albert and Tanae, and then went down the hall to Nanette's room. When Carter saw his sister he reached out and touched her shaggy blond hair. He stroked her forehead and then, finally convinced that she was real, he turned to his mother.

"Can I give her this?" he asked.

JoAnn nodded.

Carter placed his little bear in her crib. His capacity for love always surprises me, even though it shouldn't. It's just that he spends his day putting bad guys in jail, destroying monsters, fighting Darth Vader with his "life saver" and doing battle with uncountable and unnamable space aliens, sea creatures and swamp tigers. And yet, when the battles are over and the earth has been saved, he comes back to a place of peace and love. That is the true nature of the warrior spirit. To protect and to serve.

Why do these youthful spirits always surprise me? Katie, pure love. Carter, pure energy. And Nanette, pure grace.

As Carter and I stood there, holding hands, Nanette blinked once and then went back to her bottle and fell asleep. Milk drunk, I think they call it. And that is truly a happy meal.