Dominique and Eric took seats in the front rows with the children; Marc and I sat in the middle section. The kindergarteners were singing on stage. Marc couldn't spot his brothers among them and kept complaining from my lap. The gymnasium, transformed into a festive hall for the occasion, was sweltering. I was uncomfortable and said to Marc:
"Listen, either sit in the chair next to me or I'll take you over with the other children—I can't hold you anymore, you're too heavy!"
- "I want to stay with you!" -
- "Then sit here beside me!" -
I set him down, but he wouldn't stop sighing and fidgeting, constantly saying he couldn't see. I pretended not to hear.
At intermission the children were wild with excitement. Some were shouting:
- "Santa Claus!" - others were drinking Coca-Cola or eating crackers. Most were laughing. Marc rested his head on my arm. I ran my hand across his face to comfort him and felt that he was crying. I was about to say something when three children rushed over to us, shouting:
- "Come up front, Marc, you can see so much better. Santa's coming!" -
He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and asked:
- "Can I, Mom?" -
I led him over to them and returned to my seat. When the intermission ended, the children began to sing:
- "Come, come, Santa Claus!" -
I tried to catch sight of Marc sitting there in front. I barely spotted him, and I saw he was singing too. My heart pounded, and tears burned my eyes. I wiped them away—tears of joy. Marc was singing with the others, happy like the others, happy with them.
Santa finally appeared on stage, but the donkey wouldn't go up despite the teachers' best efforts to push it, barely managing not to burst out laughing. At last, to general hilarity, the donkey made it onto the stage, greeted by a Santa who was roaring with laughter.
Each class filed past him. I wondered what would happen when Marc's class came forward. I decided to stay in my seat. His teacher, carrying Marc in his arms, brought him to Santa. Once again emotion overwhelmed me.
The child the teacher was carrying was—you could see it plainly—a handicapped child. If the goal was to make Marc happy, I had to be careful never to swing to the opposite extreme: never, under any circumstances, deny his handicap.
Santa exchanged a few words with Marc while I clenched my teeth with all my strength:
- "Don't cry. Whatever you do, don't cry." -
The teacher came down from the stage and seemed to be looking for me. I went toward him, and he placed a radiant Marc in my arms. At last I relaxed. I smiled too. The party was over.