A mother is a person who, seeing there are only four pieces of pie for five people, promptly announces she never did care for pie.

—Tenneva Jordan

I knew I was not supposed to be quite so excited. I was too old for that. At age eleven, the oldest and my mom’s “grown up” girl, I had to keep my cool. I was in middle school after all. But every chance I got, when I was alone, I checked each present under the tree. I read every tag and felt every package, guessing at the contents within. I had examined each gift so often that I could tell which present went to which person without even looking at the tags.

It had been a tough year for my family. Whenever my mom looked over at the tree and scattered(撒) presents, she would sigh and warn us, “There won’t be as much for Christmas this year. Try not to be disappointed.” Christmas had traditionally been a time for my parents to spoil us. In years past, the presents would pile up and spill out from under the tree, taking over the living room. I had heard the phrase “giving is better than receiving,” but thought that whoever had said that must have been out of their mind. Getting presents was the whole point! It was the reason I couldn’t get to sleep on Christmas Eve.

On Christmas morning, we eagerly waited in the hallway until Dad told us everything was ready. We rushed into the living room and let the wrapping paper fly. We made weak attempts to wait and watch while other family members opened their presents, but as the time passed we lost our self-control.

“Here’s another one for you,” said Mom as she handed me a package. I looked at it, confused. Having spent so much time examining the presents before Christmas, I recognized this one. But it had not been mine. It was my mom’s. A new label had been put on it, with my name written in my mother’s handwriting.

“Mom, I can’t…”

I was stopped by my mother’s eager, joyful look.

I have always remembered that Christmas fondly.

The day Dana and Jeff’s daughter Melody was born was nothing like they expected. The words the doctor said to them completely shook them, “Your daughter was born with a cleft lip (唇裂).” It was impossible for the couple to hide their sadness. They couldn’t believe it was true until they saw their daughter in person. Seeing her cleft made Dana and Jeff heartbroken more than anything. It broke their heart to imagine the kind of life Melody would lead in the future.

When the doctor told Dana and Jeff that their daughter’s condition was treatable with a cleft lip surgery (外科手术), the couple saw a ray of hope. Rather than feeling stressful like the first few days, they promised themselves they never wanted their daughter to suffer from that. They would support Melody as best they could.

Dana and Jeff were ready to do anything for Melody. After bringing Melody home, they immediately began looking for cleft surgery options. However, no matter where they turned, getting Melody the surgery she needed was expensive, and the various treatments and medications she needed in the following would also be much more costly than the young family could afford.

One day, however, things took a turn for the better. While browsing through a medical forum one evening, Jeff stumbled upon (意外发现) a post about a nonprofit organization that specialized in cleft lip surgeries for children. The organization, named Smileatfuture, is dedicated to providing free surgeries to families who could not afford the procedure. The couple had seen a lot of photos and read a lot of stories about children who had cleft surgeries sponsored by Smileatfuture, and the results were unbelievable. The idea that Melody could grow up with hardly a scar (伤疤) where her cleft was lit a fire under the couple. Without any hesitation, Dana and her husband reached out to Smileatfuture and handed in an application for medical aid.

Everything went more smoothly than Dana and Jeff had expected.

The big day for Melody’s surgery finally came.

I sat at my desk and stared at the screen. I waited patiently for ideas to come to me as I tried to think up exam questions for a test I would give my English students. My wife was off to a party somewhere, but I was not alone. Meghan, our 22-month-old angel, kept my company. Yet her plans seemed to go against mine.

She followed a daily routine that was both time-consuming and challenging. It included certain basic tasks: watching the fish, sweeping the floor in her room, climbing up and down on her bed.

At first I was able to concentrate on designing my test paper. But I was soon distracted. I had not expected the arrival of the “bib-bibs”—“bib-bibs” were birds. “Bib-bibs!” Meghan screamed excitedly, her eyes alive with expectation. She insisted that I come with her to the window.

“In a minute. Just let me finish this question.” I said. She pulled me by the hand (two fingers, actually) toward the window. I saw myself as a fool, being led to watch the “bib-bibs”. They sang and leaped back and forth on the lawn just outside our apartment window. Meghan was absorbed, but as I watched them, I still thought about my work. With her attention off me, I left the window and went back to my desk.

Five minutes later, she returned. She reached up to my keyboard and pressed a bunch of keys, adding a long line of scrabbled (乱的) letters to my question. I struggled to bring my annoyance under control. “No, thank you, Meghan. Daddy’s seen your work. I’ll do it myself.” She backed off.

A few minutes later, she stood in front of me with her shoes and socks in her hand.

I finally decided to take Meghan to the park.