The Irresistible Henry House by Lisa Grunwald Page A

because they found a show called One Hour in Wonderland.
    Henry didn’t understand the significance of it then, but the Wonderland show was actually Walt Disney’s first television program, a prototype of the series that would captivate American audiences throughout the decade—and that Henry would watch, almost without fail, every week for his whole early life.
    This afternoon—Christmas afternoon, 1950—was the afternoon he met Walt Disney, a man with the twinkliest eyes Henry had ever seen, a kind voice, a trim mustache, and hair that formed a peak above his eyes, making his forehead look just like Mickey Mouse’s. During this show, Mr. Disney was hosting a party for the stars of his movies, and one of the guests was the puppet Charlie McCarthy, who was even funnier on TV than he was on the radio. At one point, Mr. Disney said the words “Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo,” and magic happened inside a special mirror, and a man with a slightly scary face appeared and granted Mr. Disney’s wish to see special things.
    Henry had heard about cartoons from Leo, and of course he had seen drawings and pictures of some of the characters. At the nursery school, Mrs. Donovan even served Donald Duck orange juice. But to see these characters do what they could do was amazing: how when they ran, their legs sometimes spun around like wheels; how when they reached for things, their arms sometimes grew longer. For an hour, Henry giggled and Martha fingered the gold pin at her neck and said, “Oh, my, that’s funny, isn’t it?” But as much as he loved the creations—Mickey and Pluto and Donald and Alice and the Seven Dwarfs with their silly song—it was Mr. Disney, the creator, with his sparkly eyes and the kind way he seemed to listen to everyone, who stayed with Henry longest. Forever, in fact.
    THREE DAYS LATER, when Henry had not had a fever for a whole day and was barely coughing anymore, he woke from a nap in the early afternoon and called for Martha but got no response. Henry hesitated, then pulled back the covers and climbed from the cozy confines of her bed.
    “Emem?” he called, first from the top of the stairs, then from midway down, then again at the base of the stairs. There was no answer. “Vera?” he called next, because Martha had told him to call for Vera if he needed anything.
    There was silence from downstairs, except for what sounded like the baby, babbling.
    The wood floor on the stairs was cold under Henry’s bare feet, and he knew Martha would want him to wear his slippers, but he didn’t like the silence.
    When he walked into the nursery, he saw Vera leaning over the crib, wrapping a blanket around Hazy, who kept kicking it off.
    “Come, now, Hazel,” Henry heard Vera saying. “Why won’t you take your nap?”
    “Why isn’t Hazy sleeping?” Henry asked from the doorway.
    Startled, Vera turned and looked scared. “What are you doing here?” she asked.
    “Want to play Go Fish with me?” Henry said.
    “You can’t be here,” she said.
    “Why not?”
    “Because you might get the baby sick. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”
    “I woke up,” Henry said. “Will you take me back upstairs?”
    “I have to put the baby to bed.”
    “She’s in bed,” Henry said, then watched Vera smile at his logic. He looked at the floor, then back at her. “Vera,” he said sweetly. “I’m scared to go upstairs by myself.”
    She turned completely around from the crib then, letting the blanket drop onto the baby’s hands.
    “You know, sometimes,” Henry said, “a kid needs a little help.”
    HENRY WAS SETTLING BACK INTO BED, and Vera had just dealt them each seven cards for Go Fish, when she noticed the flush on his cheeks. First there was just a little pinkness, across the tops, where his freckles were. Then, after what seemed like only seconds, the color moved down his face, like the deepening of a sunset, and he shivered, noticeably.
    The cards they were playing with were shaped like fish and had