I listened futilely as Thalia hacked and coughed in bed in the semi-darkness of her room. The helpless misery of having sick child hurts the heart far worse than childbirth ever hurt the body.

The final straw seemed to be the Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe. The dusty, aging book from her school library made my eyes water and my throat itch immediately; I asked to switch books after a few pages but she was so excited to delve into the fantasy she had waited weeks to procure, that I continued. We got through two full chapters before I realized that it was exacerbating her already troubling symptoms. (I’m sure Nate, who was working late, would call it some sort of karmic proof that we shouldn’t be reading an evangelical allegory in the first place.) Continue reading →