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Riding the Rooster
How Peanut Allergies Can Affect Kids' Simplest Pleasures
By Donna Stone
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.
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