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Mommy decided that she wanted to take me to see my doctor. I've always liked Doctor Flannigan. She has bright red hair and always talks about her kids. She has a lot of them.

I don't know what it's like to have brothers and sisters, and I've stopped wondering. Everytime I would say something like, "Oh, if I had a big brother, would he play baseball with me when Daddy's at work?" or "Mommy, if there were a baby in the house, would I have to clean up after her?," Mommy would look said. Her eyes would well up, and she would say, "I'm sorry, Misha, but it's just you."

That's another way I know I'm special. I got picked out by God to come here and be with Mommy and Daddy.

"Misha, are you ready to go?"

Mommy made the appointment for early today. I just showed her my spots yesterday, and already I'm going to the doctor. Luckily, it's Easter vacation, so I won't miss school. I like school. I like looking at all the books on the shelves in the classroom with their blue spines and their curly que letters, and I like knowing that I've read them already. Last year, my teacher and Mommy had a long time, and the teacher finally agreed to let me take fifth grade reading. We're reading A Wrinkle in Time, and the fourth graders are reading Old Yeller. Considering what the books are about, I guess I'm lucky. I never had to read Old Yeller. Do you know that a dog dies in that book? I don't like reading about anyone - especially Mommies, Daddies, dogs or cats, dying. It gives me a pain in my heart.

"Misha!"

"I'm coming, Mommy!"

As I run down the hallway, I trip over my right foot as the ankle gives way.

"Oof!"

"Misha! Are you okay?" Mommy is right next to me. I feel a surge of anger.

"I'm fine! Let's just go, okay?" Tears sting my eyes, and I don't know why. It's just an ankle. I think it's the look on Mommy's face. She looks scared.