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Warm bodies cuddle up to Jason’s side turning the temperature beneath the blankets from cozy to almost sweltering. Jason’s daughters insisted on sleeping with mom and dad on Christmas Eve. You protested at first with a small smile on your face betraying your true feelings, and like any good dad, Jason immediately scooped his girls into his arms and flopped down on the bed. Looking over the curly dark heads of his three daughters squeezed in tight between you two, Jason smiles and winks, reaching a hand over to tuck a fly-away of hair behind your ear, his gaze filled with love and contentment. How lucky was he to spend this time with his family.
It had been a mission to slip out of bed undetected by the trio to place their presents by the tree, but with his skills he was back before a single eye lid could raise in suspicion. And all too soon Jason found himself falling asleep to the comforting breathing of family all on one mattress.
The morning brings an empty chill sweeping over him causing one eye to peak open, finding only his wife to be the only other occupant of the bed — the girls most likely gone to see what bounty Santa left them in the night.
Exhaling, Jason scoots closer to his beautiful wife and pulls your sleep warm body close to his chest, hiking the blanket over your shoulders. He buries his nose in your hair and nuzzles closer, his fingers absentmindedly twirling a lock around his fingertip. Closing his eyes and listening carefully over your breathing, he can hear the faint giggles and thumps of his girls moving around downstairs in the den.
“Hmm, are you sure they can be left alone?” Your sleep rough voice mumbles into his chest.
“They’ll be fine,” he responds, only for a crashing sound to echo through the halls not even a second later. Jason flinches as you sigh, pushing deeper into his chest as your hand comes up to clutch at the fabric covering his hip.
“Just ten more minutes, then we can round them up.” Jason huffs out a laugh before beginning to run a gentle hand up and down your back.
True to your word, you pull back from his chest ten minutes later with sleep blurry eyes and sit up on the side of the bed, stretching sore muscles. “Remind me to never sleep in a bed with four other people again.”
You say that, but Jason knows it will happen again and you’ll enjoy having your babies pressed up against you despite any complaints.
Leaning over, Jason wraps his arms around your waist, digging his head into the small of your back. You’re wearing matching pyjamas depicting figures of teddy bears in Christmas hats holding presents, a secret Santa gift from a few years ago. In contrast, the girls wear different pyjama sets. Jane in a pink gingham set, Eliza wearing a pair of threadbare dinosaur pyjama’s, and Marie in a cream nightgown she had fallen in love with at a farmers market despite being told it was for old ladies.
“C’mon Jason, your progeny await you.”
“My progeny? They’re your spawn too,” he mumbles into your back, keeping you sitting down despite your attempt to stand.
“It was a joint effort.”
Before Jason can respond another crash sounds out this time accompanied by childish curses (exclamations such as “oh crud!” and “fudge!”).
“Guess we should go make sure no one’s hurt,” Jason sighs, lifting himself to his knees to reach over and draw you into a soft kiss and whispers against your lips when he’s done: “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas, Jay,” you say fondly, reaching a hand up to brush over his stubbly jaw. “You have diabolical morning breath, y’know that?”
“Just for you baby,” he grins, before hopping from the bed and hauling you to your feet. Leaving the bed unmade, you both go hand-in-hand downstairs, leaning into the other with light smiles on your faces.
Cool winter light streams in through open curtains, bathing the den in a cool bright light reflected off of the layers of snow outside. Despite the heat Jason radiates you still lean further into him wanting to chase away the cool air. The scene that greets you is the girls with what appears to be the contents of their stockings strewn on whatever surface available. On the T.V. quietly plays some kind of musical with the actors running around the set and standing on various pieces of furniture. In turn, as some sort of mirror, two of your daughters stand atop the den couch, one on each armrest. Seeing her parents enter the room, Marie leans conspicuously on the back of an armchair, a weak smile on her face telling of what she was probably doing mere moments ago (copying her sisters).
“Jane Rose Todd, Elizabeth Iris Todd what do you think you’re doing?”
With the skill of their father, both girls quickly and gracefully slide to the floor immediately, guilty looks on their faces. “Sorry, Mom.” They chorus, looking sheepish.
You approach Jane, the daughter closest to you, and wrap an arm around her shoulders bringing a hand up to smooth down her hair. “It’s Christmas, we don’t need to be taking a trip to the E.R because one of you fell into the coffee table, yeah?”
“Yes, Mom.” They respond again, Jane leaning into her Mom’s touch.
As children do, the atmosphere changes in a split second, Marie bounding over and grabbing Jason’s hand in her small one and begins pulling him to his favoured seat. “C’mon, now that you guys are awake let’s open presents!!” The tree is tall, almost brushing the ceiling. You decorated it altogether, the girls pulling faces every time Jason leaned over to kiss you on the cheek.
Jason follows Marie to his chair, sitting down and watch as the girls arrange themselves into a semicircle, patiently waiting for you to light the fireplace and take your place on Jason’s lap. Finally, setting yourself down on your husband’s thighs, the fire growing stronger and filling the air with warmth and a woody scent, the girls begin to pass around labelled presents.
One arm resting around your middle, Jason watches fondly as his kids all begin to cheer and whoop at the presents given to them. Some from Santa, others bought by their parents. Every now-and-then, a present will be shoved into your lap with either your name or Jason’s name stuck on it. Jason ends up getting a cologne picked out for him by his daughters, a pair of sunglasses he had been eyeing up, an assortment of ties, and hand made Christmas cards made by your daughters. Jane’s showcases the cursive writing she had been learning at school, Eliza a crude drawing of a mythical creature on the front holding giant presents, and Marie’s covered in stickers. You are given a new pair of sheepskin slippers, a pack of silk bonnets, and a new keyboard for your computer — of course with a stack of your own cards.
With the girls done opening their mounds of presents and having cleared away sheets of red printed wrapping paper, a final present shows itself at the base of the tree Jason doesn’t remember placing. It’s instantly grabbed by Eliza, who reads the name tag out loud: “‘To the Todd family, Happy Holidays.’ It doesn’t say who it’s from.”
“Santa, obviously!”
“Give it to mom to open!”
You find the present shoved in your lap, but you just hand it to Jason, his quizzical look amusing you. “Here, honey, take a look.”
Still puzzled, Jason cautiously opens the paper before sliding out a plain white card box. Carefully, balancing the narrow box on the chairs armrest, Jason lifts the lid to find folded fabric inside. It’s a soft purple made from cotton. Jason picks it up with shaking hands, his breath stuttering in his throat as he lifts it from the box to reveal the fabric: a baby onesie ending in little booties and mittens.
Jason almost doesn’t register the screams of his daughters around him as they also realise what this means. He just clutches the fabric in his hands as he looks at you with so much wonder and love and amazement in his eyes.
“A baby?”
You nod grinning from ear-to-ear as you grab his face and give him a passionate kiss. Ew’s of protest reach your ears, but neither of you care. Tears begin to gathering in Jason’s eyes, the overwhelming feeling of happiness filling his chest almost aches.
Here in this room, is his whole life. You and his girls, and soon another miracle to be added to a life he once thought unattainable.
What a Christmas indeed.