ONE YEAR TWO CANCERS, THREE MIRACLES.

• Author: Mcdonald, Sarah E.
• Position: MIND & BODY

"Mommy, I keep all of my magic in my heart. Is that where you keep yours?"

I AM SITTING with my girl across my lap on the dense, cozy rug in front of our couch. It is mid-afternoon and I have picked her up early from her after-school program so that she can have the just-Mommy-and-Rory time she had asked for this morning on our drive to school. She is now big enough that really only her head and her torso can rest on what she calls my "special place"--my lap. "Mommy, let me sit in your special place," she demands when we watch movies, when we are at dinner at friends' houses, when she needs a little reassurance or to feel like my baby again. Sometimes, when I need her to feel like my baby again, I'll pull her over to my lap--her long, gangly, sixyear-old legs splayed out beside us. Those legs won't fit as I lean over to grab and hold all the parts of her I can still gather in my arms as I cover her face with kisses.

Twenty minutes earlier, this same yummy girl had been standing in front of me with crossed arms and a scowl on her face. She was demanding a ramekin of cheese crackers before she was forced to eat the healthy strawberries I had just cut up for her and she had stamped her foot to punctuate each word. "We always eat a healthy snack first, Rory," I remind my stomping girl, "and I would love to hear you ask me kindly for the cheese crackers rather than yelling at me," I say, trying to maintain an even voice. "I! Am! Asking! Kindly!" she screeches before sticking her fingers in her ears to block out anything else I might say.

I have been reading all of the child-rearing blogs and books recommended to me while Geoff and I both try to lovingly ride out the roller coaster of big feelings that is six. Dr. Laura instructs me that the child acts out because she feels disconnected from me. What I need to do is "establish connection" with her and the grumpy little troll standing in front of me will transform into the love bug I know she can be.

1 ask if I can give her a hug. I receive a resounding "No!" and a halfhearted push. After several more attempts and more screeching, my girl finally gives in and lets me hold her. We slowly slump onto the floor and into a tangle of arms and legs. I rock back and forth with my girl on the rug. She is now cooing at me and making baby sounds. The sun is streaming into our living room and we are bathed in its light. It is one of those enchanted moments in parenting when the world slows for you and your...