Page 29 of Have a Bear-y Little Christmas

“I’m watching ice skating tutorials!” he said, pointing to his tablet that he had set up on the kitchen island.

“Hey, you know that’s only for sit-down time.” I wished I didn’t have to be so strict with it, but it was a gift from a special charity for kids in the cancer center, and I didn’t have a hope of replacing it if anything went wrong with it.

“I know. That’s why I’m not touching it right now. Only when I’m sitting down.”

God, this kid was good at finding loopholes. Maybe I should have put my foot down, but honestly, I loved seeing him so happy and active. Just a couple of months ago, he’d get winded coming down the stairs.

“Okay, but remember to save some of your energy for your check-up today. You know they tend to take it out of you.”

“That wasbefore, Mama. When I was sick. Now I’m doing much better.”

My period had to be coming because the urge to cry waved its hand at me like a kid who wanted to be noticed in class. Just hearing my son say he was doing much better was surprisingly powerful.

“You are,” I agreed. “But keep an eye on it for me, okay?”

“Can do!” he exclaimed before racing down the hall, then sliding the remaining distance to our front door. We didn’t have the biggest place, but it was enough for the two of us, and it wasours.

I should have gone back to work—I was late on the line edit I was combing through. I liked the author, but she had an interesting sort of cadence to her writing that broke a lot of conventions. I had to sift through which parts were great examples of her pushing the norms and which went a bit too far. It was rewarding work, but it took a lot of time.

Instead of working, I pulled my phone out and took a video of Max pretending to ice skate. My boy had a natural showman streak, because once he noticed I was filming, he did a few tricks and poses, grinning the whole time.

Naturally, after such a display, I had no choice but to chase him around the house and ask for his autograph, all while he accused me of being paparazzi. It was silly, it was loud, but it was also damnfun.Kids weren’t for everyone, that was a fact of the universe, but my kid was certainly forme.We were two peas in a pod.

“All right, kiddo, to the kitchen for a ten-minute rest, a drink, and a cheese stick. Then we gotta go.”

“Wait, it’s time already?”

I nodded. “Time flies when you’re having fun.”

“And you’re the funnest, Mama.”

God, what was I going to do when he became a teenager, and I turned into a lame mom? I guess I’d be able to cling to the fact that he was a teen at all.

“Thank you, big man. Now scootaloo!”

“Yes’m!”

He scampered off to the kitchen while I went back to my office to save my work before I got everything I needed to be ready to go. By the time I was done, so was his ten-minute break, and we were out the door.

“You’re all set to go, Max. If you’d like to go hang in the playroom for a bit, I believe Nurse Bernila has something she’s been wanting to give you.”

“Nurse Berni? She’s my favorite!”

“So, I heard,” the doctor said with a gentle smile.

Despite how active he’d been that morning, my son still had energy to hop off the table and hurry out the door. Normally, I wouldn’t be okay with him going off where I couldn’t see him, but I knew every employee in the cancer ward and pretty much trusted them with my life. Nurse Bernila was the crème de la crème among all of them. I couldn’t count how many times she madelumpiato share with me and my son during his treatments. Sometimes, that was the only thing Max could bring himself to eat. Then there were other dishes she’d send me home with. She also signed him up for several charities I knew nothingabout, which was how he got his tablet, his fold-up walker, most of his art supplies, and a whole bunch of clothing and shoes once he graduated from his treatment.

“Miss Wolfe,” the doctor said once we were alone, and instantly my hackles went up. Not because there was anything wrong with her demeanor, but because I was just so used to having either bad news or stern warnings whenever we were one-on-one.

“Yes, Dr. Byrne?”

“I’m incredibly pleased with the amount of weight Max has put on. The increase in his musculature is visibly noticeable.”

Whew! It was good news. That was a novel experience.

“His breath output has also significantly increased, no doubt aided by the fact that his diaphragm can actually support itself.”

Honestly, if I knew how to do the Charleston, I probably would have done it then and there. There were nights burned into my mind when Max was at his sickest and I couldn’t sleep for fear that I would wake up to something awful, so I’d stayed up the entire night to watch his chest struggle to rise and fall with his rescue inhaler gripped tightly in my hand.