My daughter Janie ran up to me today, curls bouncing and eyes sparkling, and exclaimed enthusiastically, "Mama, I love you the most of anyone!" Then she thought for a moment and (clearly not wanting to leave her other loved ones out of the picture) tempered that with, "More than anyone outside our family.  I love our family the most!"

"I love you so much too! I love you and Austen and Daddy more than anyone else in the whole world," I replied.

"What about our cat?" asked Janie, "He's part of our family. Don't you love him too?"

"Yes, I love our cat, but not as much as I love you."

"Oh," said Janie, "Do you love your friend JW?"

"Yes, I love JW."

"Do you love her more than the cat?"

"Yes, I love her more than the cat."

"And who else do you love? Do you love your other friends, like Jay and Kelly and other people like that?"

"Yes, I love my other friends too."

"Do you love them more than the cat?"

"Yes, I love them more than the cat."

"Why?!" she asked, clearly shocked at the amount of love that was being directed outside of our immediate household and away from the cat.

"Hm, because the cat is, well, a cat not a person. Cats can't talk to me and have a relationship like people can. So, I don't love cats the same way that I love people."

"Do you love all people better than cats?"

I laughed and thought of a whole slew of people, from the kid who used to shoot spitballs at the back of my head to my high school history teacher to George W. Bush to blog trolls, and said, "No, I definitely love our cat more than some people."

It's been a while since I've posted an update about the case of Alex Barton. Alex, who has been diagnosed with Asperger's (a form of autism), was voted out of his kindergarten class last spring after his teacher, Wendy Portillo, became frustrated with his behavior. She decided to discipline him by asking his classmates to state what they didn't like about him and then took a vote on whether or not Alex should be allowed in their classroom. Alex was voted out 14-2. The St. Lucie school board suspended Ms. Portillo for one year without pay, suspended her teaching license and revoked her tenure status. She is currently in the process of appealing this decision.

As for Alex and his family, they are grateful for the support they received and are currently keeping busy forming a chain of connection to other kids on the autism spectrum through The Tie Dye Project.

Alex has tie dyed five shirts and is mailing them out to other children with ASD and related needs. When a child receives a his or her shirt, that child will then make five shirts of their own to send to five other children with autism.

The project still need participants. Teachers are encouraged to take part in this effort as well. If you would like to participate in the Tie Dye Project email your contact information to Melissa Barton at mommyofalex@justiceforalexbarton.com or visit Alex's blog at http://blog.justiceforalexbarton.com/ for more details.

What I love most about winter is that nearly everyone has some way of celebrating by bringing light to the long nights. So, whether you are celebrating Christmas today or lighting a Hanukkah candle tonight or celebrated winter solstice this past weekend, I wish you light in the darkness.

(Gratefulness.org has a pretty well done virtual candle lighting ritual if you'd like to reflect and light your own.)

And then Austen drew the names. I asked him to hold each one up in his hand so I could take a picture, but we had a little breakdown of communication and I couldn't get him to understand what I meant by holding them up for the camera. So he balanced them on his wrist for the pictures instead. Served the same purpose, right? So, without further ado... He picked...

Jenn from J-Online (probably fitting, since I stole the idea from her!)

Fiona from i0nafi0na

Ingrid from Boricua in Texas

Thanks for playing you all! I will be e-mailing the three of you who will get bookmarks to ask for your address and favorite color(s).  And don't forget to pass on the love by giving something handmade of your own to three blog readers (or total strangers).

I have to say, I'm glad this was a random pick, as I wanted to give one to all of you and wouldn't have been able to pick myself. This has been such fun, I think I will do it again in the future, so the rest of you can have another shot at it.

I am in a gleeful, grateful and giving mood today and want to share. A few circumstances have conspired to prompt me to run a little giveaway for all of you out there in Bloglandia: 1. I've recently received love (in the form of a magnet from Marla and a gift this weekend from someone else who reads this blog) and 2. Jenn at J-Online posted about giving love back through a giveaway meme (I didn't get there in time to participate, but I love the idea, so I am going to steal it and run with it). So, here we go...

THE GIFT: One of three bead and ribbon bookmarks handmade by me. (It's jewelry for your books or your person!)

HOW TO GET ONE: Leave a comment on this post sometime between now and midnight (New York time) on the winter solstice (December 21).

HOW I'LL CHOOSE WHO GETS ONE: One of my lovely children will pick three lucky names from a hat, and I will send you your gift sometime in the new year.

ANNOUNCING THE RESULTS: I will announce the recipients on this blog next week, and you will need to e-mail me with your real life address. In return, I ask that you pass on some love of your own, either by giving away some handmade objects on your own blog or finding some creative way to give a gift from your hands and heart to at least three strangers.

Feel free to link back here and pass the word on.

When Austen was a baby, a friend of my husband's gave him a stuffed camel, which she brought for him all the way from Israel. However, Austen never showed much interest in toys without wheels or numbers. The sole exception was a stuffed rabbit my friend Kelly sent him for his first Easter, which he dragged around everywhere by its ears. The rabbit played "Easter Parade" when you pressed its belly, and Austen would crawl with it, each movement of his left hand marked by a soft thud followed by the electronic tinkle of music. Somehow that rabbit set a standard for music, and all songs since have been met with screaming; Austen hasn't liked music since the batteries (that were the soul of his first love) died.

Austen ignored the camel. But it had come from far away, carried over the wide sea just for him, so I put it up in a place of honor on a shelf next to his crib. When Mark and I opened the door to his room, the camel was one of the first objects to greet our eyes each day: sitting on that shelf, gathering dust and watching over our son as he slept curled next to his rabbit.

When Austen was two, Mark admitted that he had had sex with the woman who had so kindly given our baby boy the stuffed camel that sat by his crib nearly all his life. And suddenly my son's room felt poisoned and oppressive: tainted by the presence of that toy. As angry as I was at Mark for anything, I was perhaps most furious at him for letting the blood money of his addiction touch the life of his infant son. But Mark didn't need the sharp prod of my anger to hurt him. Each day, when he entered that room, he had seen the camel there, a reminder of his shame, and he'd been washed in self-loathing that would make him feel physically sick. He tried to avoid looking at it. He tried to think of how to get rid of it, but he couldn't think of how to manage it without arousing suspicion. And he thought it best, at the time, that Austen and I never know what had happened. He would keep this secret, because surely, now, finally, (he said to himself) he'd be able to stop, and this would really, truly (this time he meant it) never happen again. Until at last, something inside him shattered, and he had to admit he needed help.

I took the camel out of Austen's room, and intended to get rid of it. But I couldn't bear to give it to charity, to throw that shadow of betrayal over some other innocent life. And throwing it in the trash seemed too casual an action for a symbol of such hurt. So one night, after we put Austen to bed, Mark and I put the camel in our old charcoal barbecue grill, doused it in lighter fluid and set it on fire. It flared up; flames licked the night air, as it curled and dissolved into a plume of black smoke. Mark and I put our arms around each other and watched it burn, and I felt cleaner and closer to him than I had since I'd learned of his addiction.

We scrubbed the grill and sold it at a yard sale: every bit of the camel gone from our lives. But the simple emptiness and lack were not enough. Like a symbol for our marriage, from the ashes of that shame and pain, I wanted something new and beautiful to arise. So we went to a toy store, and picked out a stuffed bunny (since Austen was partial to them) and took it to a women and children's shelter along with some old clothes and baby gear, hoping some other child would love dragging this new toy around by the ears.

The auction is online now at http://stores.ebay.com/bloggers-for-Jeni!

It features a variety of wonderful donated items (many one of a kind products of the creativity and talent of fellow bloggers). You'll find art, jewelry, children's clothing, items for your home and a whole host of items to pamper your body and heal your spirit -- from scented soap and handcream (which you know I have a weakness for), to a stay at a Marriott, to a day with Karen Mazen Miller of Cheerio Road, to a spiritual reading and candle vigil for you.

But let me tell you, I don't care what you all bid on, that third season of Family Ties on DVD is totally mine, it may be pre-Ellen and pre-Nick, but at least it's Alex P. Keaton at his peak, before the show degenerates into the dating-Courtney-Cox-the-psych-student plot lines.

Bella and friends are working on a charity auction to help Jeni. If you'd like to help (by donating an item or cash), please visit Bella's blog for more information. You can also help by spreading the word: if you have a blog, you can post the graphic you see here, along with a link to Bella's original post or to one of your own.