Growing up in Waukee, Iowa, Caspian was just beginning to experience the joy of childhood.

He loved music and movement. Harry Styles and Desmond Dennis filled his world with rhythm, and Blippi sparked his imagination. He danced. He laughed. He explored.

But then his arm started to hurt. Then came the fever. Then came the silence.

Doctors couldn’t figure it out. The pain wouldn’t go away. Caspian stopped using his arm. His energy faded. He no longer wanted to play. And then, at the ER, came the words that would change everything: leukemia.

Caspian was just two years old when he was diagnosed. He wasn’t even old enough to understand what was happening. But from the very beginning, he faced it all with a quiet kind of bravery that no child should ever have to carry. There were no more trips to the park. No birthday parties. No playdates. No preschool, no sleepovers, no carefree afternoons at the playground. Even holidays felt hollow, spent behind closed doors, watching loved ones from a distance. And the hardest part? No spending time with the people who love him most. Not even his grandparents.

Caspian’s immune system was so fragile that the outside world became dangerous. One cough. One sneeze. One passing cold. That was all it would take to send him back to the hospital, where more needles, fevers, and fear awaited. And it happened. More than once.

His parents had to watch him press his face to the window, asking why he couldn’t go outside. Why he couldn’t see his cousins. Why he couldn’t play like the other kids. They had to keep saying no to the child they would’ve given the world to say yes to. Because keeping him safe meant keeping him isolated, even when it broke their hearts.

What should have been the most joyful years of his life became years of waiting, worrying, and wondering when it would ever feel normal again. Life became a cycle of hospital rooms, treatments, and trying to keep their little boy safe.

His mom left her job to care for him full-time. His dad balanced work with hospital stays and emergency room visits. As a family, they gave up everything to fight for Caspian.

Since diagnosis, Caspian has had a port placed in his chest, gone through multiple rounds of chemotherapy, endured lumbar punctures, received blood and IVIG transfusions, and takes daily oral chemo. Right now, he’s in the maintenance phase of treatment. That means daily pills, weekly medications, monthly IV chemo, spinal chemo every three months, and steroids that leave him drained.

He won’t finish treatment until March of 2026. That’s nearly four years of his life spent fighting cancer, years he should have spent simply being a kid. Four years of waking up not to cartoons, but to chemo. More time missing out than making memories.

He’s lost so much, the little moments most kids get without even thinking. But what’s even more incredible is what he’s held onto: his curiosity, his spark. He never stopped learning. Never stopped loving. Even when he was too tired to speak, he still whispered, “Thank you.” Even when he was scared, he still showed up.

That is what courage looks like at four years old. The world has taken so much from him. But it has not taken his heart.

He thanks his nurses after every poke. He’s gentle, kind, and unbelievably smart. He started reading on his own at two years old. He can count in different languages. He knows the names of exotic cars most adults have never heard of. He’s curious. He’s thoughtful. He’s so much more than his diagnosis.

But even the strongest kids need a break from being strong.

Caspian’s dream is to go to Disney World and stay at Give Kids The World Village. To him, Disney isn’t just a theme park. It’s freedom. It’s a place where masks can come off, where he can be around other kids without fear, where he doesn’t have to worry about fevers or ports or missing out. He dreams of standing in a place where no one knows his name from a hospital bracelet. Where he isn’t sick. Just a boy chasing magic, not medicine.

He’s watched Disney videos on repeat from his bed. He’s imagined what it would be like to be there, not as a patient, but as a kid. A kid who gets to laugh, play, and feel completely, joyfully normal.

Caspian has lost so much of his childhood to cancer. He’s missed firsts, friendships, and the freedom to simply be little.

We’re on a mission to raise $5,000 to send Caspian and his little family on the trip of a lifetime. A chance to step away from hospitals, appointments, and fear, and into a world of magic, laughter, and healing.

This is more than just a trip. It’s a chance for Caspian to feel joy without limits, to create memories untouched by cancer, and to finally experience what it means to just be a kid.

This family deserves that.

Let’s make Disney happen for Caspian!

Want to help? Share his story. Tell a friend. Donate a dollar. Got extra? Donate another. You never know the impact you can make until you do.