Christmas continued: We finally unwrapped the last of our Christmas gifts. Daniel is in heaven over the present he opened tonight from his godfather. Don frequently travels to Asia on business, and he sent Daniel Pokémon cards direct from Japan, no less.

Reading: Keeping Faith, by Jodi Picoult. Out of the blue, Faith, the young daughter of a divorced, non-religious Jewish woman, suddenly begins seeing visions of God in female form. Then she heals the sick and even develops stigmata. Is Faith psychotic? Is she or her mother perpetrating a hoax? Is Faith's mother causing her injuries? Or are her visions real? The issue sparks a media circus and forces a custody battle between Faith's parents. The premise is intriguing, but I am disappointed in Picoult's weak characterization and the contrived love story she jerry-rigs between Faith's mother and her adversary, a publicity seeking "tele-atheist," who wants to prove Faith a fraud.

Daniel and the Non-Thinker

I spent part of the morning sorting through the clothes in Daniel's bureau. It was a long overdue chore; Daniel had outgrown most of the clothes in his room. Time to drag out the bags and boxes of clothes given to us by our friends with older boys. Daniel is hard to fit in pants. He is currently a 6 or 7 slim, depending on the length. The regular size slips right off his narrow frame unless he's wearing a belt.

It would be nice if his castoffs could go directly to the twins, but they are a full two sizes behind him. Which means that we have to store several boxes of size 6 clothes for another couple of years.

Once I was done with Daniel's clothes, I decided to take advantage of the lovely weather today and take the boys out to a playground. Between their illnesses and the cold weather we've had, the boys haven't been outside for any kind of exercise for a full week. Stephen wasn't feeling well enough to come, so Matthew, Daniel, and I went off by ourselves.

The playground was hopping with other kids all bursting with pentup post-Christmas exuberance. I settled onto a bench, breathed deeply of the warm, spring-like air and watched Daniel and Matthew at play. I was intrigued by the interaction between them. Matthew followed his older brother around the playground like a little shadow but, unlike Stephen, he rarely played directly with Daniel. Instead, he imitated whatever Daniel did.

Near the bench at which I was sitting is a small, fort-like structure. Toward the end of our time at the playground, Daniel started gathering sticks from under the trees and carrying them up to the top of the fort. He arranged them in a complicated pattern: one layer facing in one direction, the next in another, and so on. He topped the whole thing off with several handfuls of pebbles. All the while, Matthew was busily building his own stick-and-stone sculpture near Daniel's.

A curious little girl wandered over. At first she scorned Daniel's construction, but soon she was helping him. "Get me some more of those twigs over there," he directed her.

Then unforeseen disaster struck. A young boy, perhaps four, scuttled up the fort and in an instant knocked Daniel's construction to the ground. Poor Daniel was distraught.

"That stupid kid! Why did he do that?" Daniel wailed.

"Honey, he's pretty little," I said. "He didn't really know what he was doing. He just didn't think."

Daniel muttered angrily, "That darn kid. He doesn't think. He's a stupid, non-thinking kid."

Then Daniel insisted on rebuilding his sculpture before we left. "Come on, Matthew, help me!" he commanded.

Matthew, however, became mulishly obstinate. "I don't wanna. My legs are tired."

"Mama! I want Matthew to help me!"

"Sorry, Dans. He doesn't have to help you, if he doesn't want to. Although it would be nice if he did," I said, staring meaningfully at Matthew, who chose to ignore the hint.

"Matthew, if you don't help, I'm going to walk around like Frankenstein in your face!"

Matthew is nothing if not strong-willed, however, and resisted Daniel's entreaties and threats until Daniel finally pulled out his ultimate weapon. "Matthew is a meanie, that's good enough for me!" he sang to the tune of Cookie Monster's song, "C is for Cookie."

Oh, all right," Matthew grumbled and began picking up sticks for his brother.

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