When September rolls around, I look like any other haggled parent standing in the checkout with three kids. The shopping cart is filled with packs of pencils, note paper, crayons, markers and tissues.

"Why do we need to buy tissues for school?" my kindergartener asked last year.

I pictured a whole class of five-year-olds with runny noses and was tempted to reply, "So kids won't use their sleeves." But I chose the logical, "For when your nose is runny."

My neighbor claimed it would be a busy year when she found out I'd have one in kindergarten, one in first grade and one in middle school. But not busy enough, I thought, and again resisted the urge to let her know that I was wondering what my fifth-grader would be needing for school this year.

My fifth-grader, Daniel, never passed fourth grade. Or third, or even first. He didn't get a school supply list. Instead he got a kit from the hospital with syringes and bandages, all very sterile.

On Memorial Day Weekend, 1996, Daniel was three and diagnosed with Neuroblastoma. After eight months of treatments, surgeries, prayers and hope, this bald-headed kid, who acknowledged he was a