December 2 - Family

All was quiet that cold wintry morning.  A blanket of freshly fallen snow muffled the tires of passing cars on the street below.  Thin, watery light filtered through frosted windows, and the little sleeping girl rolled over in bed and woke slowly, eyes fluttering open, arms and legs flinging out in a morning stretch.  A huge smile broke upon her face as she realized what day it was.  Leaping from bed, she stuffed her feet into little, pink knitted slippers and trailed her pink robe behind her as she crept down the stairs, not wanting to wake anyone.  Wanting to be the first to see.

Peeking around the living room door, her brown eyes widened in wonder.  Packed under the gaily decorated Christmas tree were piles and piles of brightly wrapped gifts, many caring the nametag “From Santa.”

“He came, he came, he came!”  She could contain her jubilation no longer, jumping into the room and shouting aloud, wanting her brothers and mom and dad to awaken, now, now, now so the presents could be opened.  She couldn’t wait to see if Santa had brought her the doll she asked for and the toy pony.

Pounding on the stairs heralded the arrival of her older brothers, pushing their way into the living room to exclaim over the presents, looking for their names, shaking promising looking boxes, trying to decipher what lay within.

Their clamour woke mom and dad, who joined them around the Christmas tree, yawning sleepily while tying robe sashes.

One present only, mom declared, then breakfast must be eaten, before Grandma and Grandpa arrived to open the rest of the gifts and sit down to turkey dinner.  The children scrambled about the tree, wanting just the right gift to open first.  One from mom and dad?  No, probably clothing.  Best to open one from Santa, better odds it’d be a toy, something to ooh and aah over, play with at the breakfast table.  While the children picked their one present to open now, dad turned on the Christmas tree lights, pressed play on the little stereo.  Familiar carols drifted out of the speakers and three siblings took to the floor in perfect crossed leg imitation of each other, a gift held impatiently in their laps.  

“Now?” they cried.

“Now,” declared their parents settling down on the couch, and paper was torn.