Leading Up to Christmas (3)
After a performance that could have come straight out of a Christmas movie—
“Reni and Luca! Merry Christmas! And Happy New Year!”
“Merry Christmas to you too, Charlie!”
“Maa!”
The children traded warm Christmas and New Year greetings that made the cold night air feel almost irrelevant.
“See you Monday, then.”
Cassandra waved brightly and headed back into the pub with Charlie.
I loaded Greg into the car along with the kids—he’d been so frazzled he’d taken a taxi over. As I turned the wheel toward his place first, Greg let out a long sigh and sank into the seat, looking like a man who’d just finished thanking every star in the sky for getting through the show in one piece.
“You okay?”
“Yeah… just haven’t slept properly since yesterday. Still—today’s set was decent, right?”
“More than decent. It was great.”
I let him rest in quiet until we reached his house. After about twenty minutes of driving, we rolled into his neighborhood for the first time in a while. It looked like someone had lifted a miniature version of Santa’s village and set it down here—friendly decorations and lights glittering on every side.
“Wow, Luca, look! Rudolph!”
“Oofua!”
The kids laughed with pure delight at the late-night spectacle Greg’s street provided.
“This place really goes all-out. Must be all the families with kids.”
“Yeah, probably.”
Around our own villa most of the residents were older, so the decorations stayed relatively restrained—classic wreaths and red holiday accents. Here, it felt like every house was competing to out-sparkle the next.
“…Yours isn’t exactly subtle either.”
I pulled up in front of Greg’s place and found my mouth hanging slightly open. Every tree in the yard was wrapped in string lights, and somehow—don’t ask me how—three full Christmas trees sat on the roof.
“Obviously. Can’t let those damn neighbors win.”
“Why are you even like this…”
Instead of answering, Greg asked if I wanted to come in for a bit. It felt like a courtesy question more than anything. I shook my head and offered the best deal a boss could give.
“If the baby’s wiping you out, why not take Monday off too?”
But my ungrateful employee flatly refused.
“Nah. Coming into work is actually a little easier…”
I almost threatened to tell Rachel, then realized Rachel would probably just shove him out the door herself. So I simply said I’d see him Monday and headed home.
Back at the house I knocked out the usual pre-bedtime chores. A glance at the living room confirmed the kids still had zero intention of leaving their tent. I stretched out on the sofa watching them and eventually fell asleep right there.
Sunday morning arrived with more mental breathing room than I’d felt in ages. We shared a slow, happy breakfast, then settled into the living room. Luca’s fierce determination to open presents eventually won out, so the kids each unwrapped one more gift. Reni spent the morning with a new set of crayons and sketchbook; Luca clutched a brand-new pop-up picture book. Once they opened something, they usually stayed glued to it for hours—so that part was nice. They’d open another in the afternoon, but there was no helping it. They weren’t old enough yet to understand “no,” and every once in a while that wasn’t such a bad thing.
Reni had been cheerfully drawing in the fresh sketchbook when he suddenly lifted his head as if something important had just hit him.
“Ah! That’s right! Daddy, emergency! I need your help!”
Wondering what on earth he needed, I sat beside him. He produced the winter-break homework list he’d gotten from preschool.
“I have homework.”
The printout carefully listed everything a child might do over the two-plus weeks of break, timed from the Christmas week through the start of the new year. Nothing was mandatory; it was more of a gentle idea bank for parents looking after their kids. When I told him he didn’t have to force himself, Reni insisted he wanted to do it. I liked that he took homework seriously, so I pulled him onto my lap and we read through the list together.
“Let’s see… fifteen minutes of reading, writing capital ABC, lowercase ABC too…”
“Whoa, so much homework.”
“And counting to thirty. I bet Reni can do that right away.”
“Yeah! One, two, three…”
He started counting to thirty before we’d even finished the list. He stumbled once in the middle, but reaching thirty clearly wasn’t a problem anymore.
“Twenty-nine… thirty!”
“Wow, you already finished one whole homework?”
I ruffled his hair and praised him, then kept reading.
“Write your name three times, Christmas picture diary… oh, and writing Christmas cards to the people you love.”
Reni’s hands suddenly grew urgent.
“Umm… I have to make cards for Uncle Greg and Aunt Cassandra. And the Sisters, and Mom, and… oh, Father too…”
The kid who had just counted to thirty without trouble now folded his fingers one by one listing names, then clutched his head when the number got too big.
“Daddy, I like too many people. It’s hard.”
I laughed so hard my shoulders shook. Of course—writing that many Christmas cards was a real crisis for a child who still couldn’t read or write very well. The card he’d made for me had taken him the entire afternoon, after all. I stopped teasing the fretting boy and offered a solution.
“Then how about we make them together?”
His face lit up instantly.
“Yeah!”
“Great. Hang on a second.”
I’d already bought a whole pack of cards to tuck into the gift sets for the staff and the people at the church. Perfect timing.
“Daddy will write the words in the middle, and if Reni draws pictures all around them, they’ll turn out really pretty.”
“…Okay!”
We even called Luca over. The three of us sat around the little table writing and drawing, then I put the kids down for their nap. Reni fell asleep smiling, proud of finishing another homework item; Luca dozed off just as proudly after covering the table—not the paper—with crayon scribbles.
Once the kids were settled, I started wrapping the gifts for the staff tomorrow and for the church people on Christmas Day. I hauled every package that had arrived by courier into the playroom and spread them out. Soft high-quality wool shawls, blankets, and scarves went carefully into boxes. In the old days I would have made all of this myself because store-bought versions were too expensive. This Christmas, though, the points heaven had handed me took care of everything. Double points on every purchase meant I was flush, and they would vanish in two years anyway—no reason to hoard them. If not at a time when everyone should be sharing happiness, when else would I burn through points in bulk?
Adult gifts handled, I put extra care into the ones for Tony and Jennyfer. I filled sturdy canvas bookbags with stationery, school supplies, and little accessories like keychains that matched each child’s taste. Sister Marisa had given me their shoe sizes, so I packed a pair each that would last at least until spring, plus three sets of tops and bottoms. Kids at the Group Home simply didn’t have as many clothes as others. Finally I added a soft night-light each of them could keep by their bed. A warm glow to look at before sleep can be a small comfort to a child’s heart.
Even with the Sisters and the Father looking after them, children always long for their parents deep down. That longing leaves a little hole, and the wind keeps whistling through it. I still remember the thought that hit me every morning as a kid: Today they’ll come find me. Today there’ll be some kind of news. I started every day with that hope and went to sleep every night telling myself to put the wish off just one more day. For kids living through those same hours, small gifts left here and there with real feeling matter more than one big present. When enough warm hearts gather, they can fill that tiny hole just enough that a heart grown cold without noticing starts to feel a little warmer again.
Of course I didn’t forget the gifts for James, the second-floor neighbors, and the building staff for Monday morning. The management office got the same gift sets as the preschool teachers. For Lily, Rose, and James I prepared high-end teacup sets on Jane’s advice. (The fact that I’d asked Lily and Rose for advice on Jane’s gift wasn’t a secret, so they probably already knew what they were getting.)
That busy Sunday ended and Monday dawned. Before work I stopped by the first-floor management office, then went to see James.
“Merry Christmas, James.”
He accepted the gift with a thoroughly happy face, then grinned like Santa himself and pulled three brightly wrapped packages from under the counter. I hadn’t expected him to go this far—he’d even prepared Christmas presents for the kids.
“Wow, thank you!”
“Hee…”
Reni’s eyes sparkled as he said thank you. Luca, who had firmly learned that pretty wrapping paper usually meant good things, just grinned and waved his hand up and down at James.
“That’s his version of ‘thank you.’”
“Aigoo, of course it is.”
James watched with fond eyes as the kids tore into the wrapping before I could stop them—exactly the look of an uncle watching his own nephews. Inside were tiny, adorable gloves. Reni’s had a plump yellow star of cotton on the back; Luca’s even smaller pair had a little bear face.
“Aw, these are so cute.”
I slipped the gloves onto Reni’s hands—he was so happy he couldn’t even speak—and then onto Luca’s. Luca threw both arms up in a cheer at the bear, so clearly the gloves were a hit with him too. Which made me wonder if my own gift was something similar… but I wasn’t a child; I couldn’t open it on the spot.
We exchanged another round of smiles and good wishes, then I headed up to the second floor. It was still early, so I planned to visit Lily and Rose around lunchtime and went straight to the office.
“Happy Monday, everyone.”
“Whoa—didn’t somebody once say that greeting should be banned?”
Greg, the same guy who’d insisted on coming in even when offered the day off, mumbled into his desk. Judging by the state of him, the baby had kept him up all night again.
“The little princess is working her servants too hard.”
I joked as I settled the kids in the playroom, then made coffee and handed it to the half-dead man.
“Still, our princess is adorable.”
Greg accepted the cup with slightly shaky hands. Feeling a little sorry for him, I wordlessly passed over his gift.
“Oh, thanks. Here—yours.”
“I brought some too! Merry Christmas, both of you!”
“Thank you.”
After the mini gift exchange we all drifted, without anyone suggesting it, to the island table for coffee.
“Rachel says she wants to come back mid-January.”
Greg spoke through half-lidded eyes. Cassandra let out a heavy sigh.
“That woman, honestly.”
“As her husband it’s your job to push her to mid-February at least.”
“I have zero power in that house. I’m just the servant to the Queen and the Princess.”
We traded a little more small talk, then briefly ran through the schedule. With Christmas so close, everyone was clearly a little giddy. So, exercising a boss’s privilege, I wrapped up every task before lunch and sent us all home early.