On that day, after I had done the 101 things that had to be done, I still had enough energy to suggest to my husband that we go to the bank and run a few errands.

We dropped the two older boys off at a friend's house and were on our way: Mom, Dad, Caleb and baby Lily. The first stop was to pick up a check, then we went by the bank (drive-through, of course) and dropped off some library books. Done!

On a whim I said, "Let's go to the mall."

Without his brothers along, Caleb had our full attention. I gave myself the freedom to make this day special for him. We stopped in at a variety store and let him pick a toy, Mom and Dad both hovering anxiously while trying to appear unobtrusive, making sure to steer our son away from any food items. I browsed through the over-stuffed aisles of party favors and cheap gift items while keeping an alert eye on him. As we left with our purchases, Caleb protectively clutched a red matchbox truck in a death grip to rival any pro wrestler's.

We stopped to look at an antique fire truck on display and answered questions until curiosity became too much temptation for little hands not to touch.

Walking through the mall, we reached a certain point and crossed to the other side, going against the natural flow of shoppers. I breathed a prayer of thankfulness that the bakery and the candy store were on the same side, opposite from us. Watching, watching, I prayed with my eyes wide open.

Stifling thoughts of how many peanut butter-contaminated hands had been there before us, I asked Caleb if he wanted to ride the Merry-Go-Round. His face lit up with amazement. His dad took him to ride the rooster. Around and around they went while I constantly searched among the bright colors and shiny brass poles flashing by for glimpses of his face. This was something new for us both: joy and fear intermingled were displayed on his little face. The same emotions played across my features as I watched his pleasure, and at the same time estimated how long it would take to stop the ride and get to him if he needed his Epi-Pen.

After showcasing his talent for impersonating his favorite sheriff to an impressed audience, Caleb asked for a marshmallow. It seemed to be a pretty cheap wage for such an accomplished actor, so I consented. Before giving him the sticky treat, I read the label to check for food coloring out of habit, even though I had read it when I purchased them and again when I opened the bag. He gobbled up the one and said in a sweet, wheedling voice, "May I have three?" So he got two more, and I was rewarded with an ear-splitting grin, complete with dimples and rows of tiny white baby teeth.

This day shines in my memory. It was almost as if we were normal, average people, doing normal, average things. There are days that aren't so great, days full of antihistamines, doctors and oatmeal baths; and other days when I must say no to every request. Then I search my heart, pull out that memory and think about battered straw hats, marshmallows and riding the rooster.

About Anaphylaxis
Caleb is 4 years old and is among the growing number of children affected by Food Induced Anaphylaxis, usually caused by peanut allergy. Sensitive individuals can react by inhaling peanut dust or odor and by absorbing through skin contact residual peanut traces left on surfaces. Allergic persons must carry an Epi-Pen, an auto injector containing a premeasured dose of epinephrine, or similar device with them at all times along with an antihistamine. Many children with peanut allergy have other allergies as well. It is estimated by the American Academy of Allergy, Asthma and Immunology that 125 Americans die each year from allergic reactions to food, although true statistics are impossible to come by because it is under reported as a cause of death. Peanut allergy is considered to be a lifelong condition.