Someone Was A Very Good Girl This Year

She sat down on the stairs, her face skeptical.

“Poo, there’s something I think you want to see,” her father said, looking like a little boy himself in candy-striped pajama bottoms.

“What, Daddy?”

“Santa came in the night while you were sleeping!”

Her eyes widened, and her resolve to remain on the staircase deepened. We looked at each other and shrugged, turning back to the family room.

“OK, Poo, you stay there,” I said. “I’m going to see what Santa brought. Wish you’d come with us.”

We stood with our backs to her for a moment, and then I turned my head to see what she was doing. A small face peered through the banister, pale under a cloud of dark-brown waves. Slowly she descended, coming closer to the tree.

Lit like a candle, the bottom of the tree spilled over with cheerfully wrapped packages. Her stocking, stitched by her aunt with tender loving care three years ago, was laden with small treasures – Play-Doh, jingle bells and minty chocolates.

On top of the piled presents was a ballerina dress. She grabbed it, held it to her chest and exclaimed, “Just like Lizzy has!”

Lizzy, The Poo’s older cousin, looms large in The Poo’s consciousness these days. She found Lizzy’s stash of costumes most bewitching during our Thanksgiving visit.

Thirty minutes later we sat surrounded by baubles and playthings, happily satisfied and cozy in front of the fire.

It may have been Dec. 17, but at long last, I got my Christmas morning.

It turns out that Christmas really can happen any day. All you needs is love in your heart, and the dreams of a child.

But if you tell anyone I said that I’ll deny it.