Please excuse ANY errors.

December 24, 1998

~Mrs. Mary DeGrate's P.O.V~

"We usually start a day or two before holidays like Christmas and Thanksgiving. Sometimes the fourth too." Tia told me, seasoning some ribs.

"We always do it the day of. Everything except the pies." I told her. "I may start doing it a day or two ahead."

"The barbeque isn't being cooked today. My daddy is doing that tomorrow. I'm just seasoning it to let the seasoning marinate." She wrapped the ribs up in aluminum and placed it in the fridge.

"What are some you all's Christmas traditions?" I asked her.

"Um... We used to do raffles. I would help my mother, aunt, and grandmother cook sweets, specifically no bake cheesecake and they would use them as prizes. Cheesecake and Dollar store items. It was the best." She smiled.

"You said used to, what happened?" I asked her.

"Ummm... Well, our family is matriarchal and once my grandmother passed, everybody went in their own direction with their own reasons of course." She nodded. "We all grew up." She shrugged. "Donald has told me some things, but did y'all have any memorable traditions?"

"I grew up in the church and the first thing we would do is go to church for Christmas," I replied. "I always had a new dress that my mother would hem weeks prior to Christmas and we were happy to wear them Christmas morning. Especially after hours and hours standing up in a chair while they did it." I laughed. "That's a lot of work."

"Thank goodness for sewing machines." She responded.

"That's right, you DO make clothes!" I exclaimed. "I forgot. Remind me of what it is you do in its entirety."

"There's film, I have a partnership brand with my best friend and CEO of a lingerie and underwear brand and CEO of a skincare brand." She listed off.

"So you have plenty of things on your hands?" I raised my eyebrows. "Honey, how do you have time to be with anyone?" I said laughing.

"I don't most of the time, but you try and make time for what you want to make time for. Plus, I have people that work for my companies now." She nodded. "And I'm currently looking for an assistant, so then I'll have a bit more time." Tia lifted the lid, adding more seasoning to the greens.

"What did you want to be as a child? Does it match what you're doing now? What was the first thing you ever wanted to be?" I questioned her while washing the chicken.

"Mm," she laughed. "The first thing I ever said I wanted to be was a robot when I grow up. I was like two. My mother said I could be anything and well..." She laughed a little louder. "Then a lawyer when I was like five, and when I got a little older it was a chef. Finally, I settled that I wanted to go to college for business, but also secretly wanted to create films."

"So now you dibbling and dabbling into some of most of what you listed. A robot though?" I laughed loudly. "That's funny. Junior always had his mind dead set on being a musician."

"Yeah, he told me." She smiled. "Ironic how they all ended up meeting years later."

"It's a great wonder how they remained a group all those years after finding out about the day they finally formed the group." I raised my eyebrows giving her a look.

"Oh, yeah. I said the same thing. THAT was crazy." Tia agreed, closing the pot. "Well, they're all okay now, so... Eh."

In came Junior, Dalvin, Derek, Daryl, Yasir, and my husband.

"Hey, my love!" Junior came doing basketball tricks ALL WRONG. My poor child! He lifted Tia up and kissed her on the cheek.

"You're so sweaty," Tia told my son as he put her back down.

"You should've seen me out there. I was dunkin' on everybody!" Junior said showing off some more basketball moves.

"That's a lie," Dalvin said pouring him some juice. "You and pops were the last to be picked because y'all are the most trash. I have no clue where I got my athleticism from because this doesn't make no sense."

"Babe, don't listen to him." Junior shook his head.

"Donald, I saw you play before- a few times and it wasn't like you say," Tia replied.

"Exactly!" Dalvin said laughing.

"Uh- wash y'all hands after y'all just came from outside bouncing that dirty ball," I told them after I saw Dalvin put the carton of juice down on the table and it left some dirty fingerprints. "Look at them dirty fingerprints on that carton of juice." I gestured.

"God made dirt, mama," Derek said pouring him some juice.

Junior grabbed a bottle of water, chugging it as my husband sat his empty bottle down.

"Listen here, I can play ball. Y'all are just adding more rules to the game! That's what's wrong with y'all young kids. Need rules to everything you do." My husband told them.

"You ain't supposed to push people down, Senior. That's a whole foul." Daryl told him.

"That's not how we used to play." My husband replied.

"Y'all didn't play. Balls ain't exist when you were young pops." Dalvin said laughing. "Y'all probably used old socks as the ball and y'all arms as a hoop."

Junior patted Dalvin's shoulder laughing. "Arms as hoops!" Junior repeated. "That's probably why y'all were able to push people down. The hoop wasn't that high and when y'all dunked, y'all pushed down the human hoop."

"Y'all smell like outside," Tia told them.

"Mhm." I frowned. "Come on, get what y'all need and make y'all way out of the kitchen." I shooed them out. "Y'all a little stinky."

"What y'all makin'?" Junior reached for the pot's handle.

She grabbed the bottom of his shirt, pulling him back a little. "Nuh-uh. Donald, you will see when you eat it tomorrow." She shook her head at him. "Your hands are dirty, so you're not touching these pots."

"I can't even peak and see what's in there?" Junior asked her.

"No, tomorrow." She crossed her arms.

"Why tomorrow? Ain't we eatin' it today?" His eyebrows wiggled in confusion.

"Nope, this is Christmas dinner," Tia replied and her mother entered the kitchen, handing her the chopped vegetables.

"And I better not see any of y'all scurrying y'all tails in here, digging into these pots until we have Christmas dinner." I pointed to all of them.

My husband and children replied, "yes, ma'am!"

"-BUT," Dalvin drank some more juice before continuing, "what are we supposed to eat tonight?"

"Y'all- Daryl was supposed to order everybody some food," LaZardia replied. "He's the only one of y'all to understand and speak French."

"I can speak it too. Banjo means hello. Nature means food." Dalvin said listing off things.

"Dalvin, you just listin' English words. Banjo is an instrument." Junior shook his head. "BIG dummy." He shook his head.

"Don't call me no dummy, dummy." Dalvin pointed at him. "Ma, he called me a dummy."

"You just did the same thing to him." My husband said laughing.

"Right, how your grown ass gon' feel your mama on your brother, when we all standing right here?" Daryl asked him confused.

"That right there tells you that he is a mama's boy." Derek shook his head. "Y'all baby him too much. DJ is cool because he's still a baby."

"MAMA!" DJ came running into the kitchen screaming. "Get away!" He screamed at Darnell.

All the other kids came into the kitchen. "What is going on?"

"They hit me!" DJ cried out.

"No, we didn't!" Dery exclaimed.

"He hit us, then ran in here." Darnell pointed at DJ.

"Who's ain't being truthful?" I asked them.

"Them!" Masir and DJ said in sync.

"Nuh-uhn..." Darnell stomped his feet. "She's gonna take his side. Grandma's gonna take DJ's side because that's her son."

"Stop that." I pointed at him.

"Right, don't be stomping your feet at nobody, especially your grandma. Stomp them feet again and imma give you something to cry about." Derek told him.

"Sorry." He frowned.

"I'm not taking anyone's side because I don't know. All I know is that somebody is lying. I tell y'all what, all the boys and men, GET OUT of the kitchen." I pointed to the door. "Y'all stink, dirty, and distracting." I shooed them out again. "And y'all kids better behave," I told them.

"She did us dirty!" Junior said making his way out of the kitchen.

"Grimy!" Derek replied to Junior.

Tia threw the carton in the trash, washed her hands, and began washing the different surfaces in the kitchen. It was mostly the ones the men touched.

"Ooh, they all smell like sweat and outside." LaZardia shook her head, chuckling.

"Tell me about it." I replied with risen eyebrows. "Then tried to dig in the pots. What were we talking about before they came in?"

"Oh, she has her headphones in. She usually listens to music while she cooks." LaZardia replied. "So, she can't hear you, especially all the way over there. She didn't want to play it out loud, because y'all don't like that type of music. So you've NEVER listened to any Freddie Jackson, Luther, or Anita?" She asked me with risen eyebrows.

"I've listened- no, I have HEARD secular music before, because I've been around people that play it. It doesn't mean I enjoyed it. BUT when my husband and I started dating, things changed." I admitted.

"Oh," she nodded.

"Where did you and your husband meet?" I asked her.

"We met..." LaZardia trailed off. "We met in a casino." She sucked her teeth. "And I know you're probably judging me. It's what I like to do for fun, but I know my limits and responsibilities. Always have and always will."

I turned to the stove to mix the contents of the pot. "Oh," I replied with a nod. "So you go often?"

"No. Mostly for special occasions." She replied.

"Your children?"

"What about them?" She questioned.

"Do they gamble?" I turned back around.

"Tia doesn't because I know that's who you're REALLY referring to. She's been, but she never gambled. Not that I know of." She shrugged. "My daughter is a little different. She doesn't like too many things because there are so many kind of addictions running in her family on both sides. Those were my daughter's words and I'm glad that she doesn't."

"I-" The sound of the sink turning on is what stopped me from replying. It was Tia washing her hands.

She looked at us, drying her hands with a paper towel, then used the paper towel to pull out her earbuds. "Yes?" She questioned. "Was I called on or something?"

"No," LaZardia replied. "We were discussing you though."

"Oh, okay." She spoke awkwardly. "What about me?"

"She was wondering if you gambled and you don't, so that's what I said as a response," LaZardia replied. "Among other things." She finished.

Tia took the cornbread out of the oven. "Yeah, it's not my thing." She shook her head, placing it on the counter.

"I wish other people thought like that," I said as a response to what LaZardia said earlier and to what Tia just said. "I wish more people had that thought process."

"You can wish all you want." LaZardia stood up. "People will do what they feel and feeling sorry gets you nowhere." She sighed and grabbed the white potatoes and began peeling them into a bag. "I know firsthand because my daddy is a drug addict. He's a functioning one, but it's bad. Then my mother was an alcoholic."

"So you grew up in dysfunction?" I asked her.

"Oh, yeah. Big time." LaZardia shrugged. "But it is what it is. I spent all my childhood and some of my adulthood wishing, praying, just hoping for things, but it never happened."

"You can hope, pray, dream, and wish for things to happen, but those things and people that you're doing all of that for aren't taking action, then all of that is just gone with the wind." Tia cosigned. "Same thing with ourselves, but those things do keep us sane when in a dark place."

"I believe all things are possible through Christ," I replied. "Regardless of anything."

"And that's your right," LaZardia replied. "And we have ours. Life goes on. Back to what we were talking about earlier. You know, the traditions? I grew up in church too. My mother's side of the family was and still is heavily involved in church and we did go to church. My aunt runs the church but is mostly involved with the choir. We would sometimes go on Christmas day."

"That's a good tradition. How come it wasn't passed on?" I asked her.

"The kids went to church on holidays SOMETIMES too. Probably a little more than us at one point." She replied.

"We were in the choir and our family made up MAJORITY of the choir. We went almost every day for practice- right after school set up, etc." Tia replied with a smile. "And you're right, the new dresses for Christmas morning were something to look forward to."

"Specifically her. The people at church spoiled her and her the MOST." LaZardia chuckled.

"That's true." She nodded in agreement.

"Tell her why though." LaZardia pointed at her.

"Because I was the one to know EVERY verse, poem, or speech that I was given no matter how big. Every time I had to do any of those things, I did it loud and proud." She laughed.

"That was shocking to everyone there because she speaks so low. She was always so quiet. I didn't have to worry too much about finding her dresses or anything because the people at church would buy them every time. Sometimes more than one." LaZardia raised her eyebrows.

"We had so much fun at church," Tia spoke reminiscently. "Hardly ever a dull moment while being taught about God."

"That sounds like fun," I replied. "My type of fun," I emphasized.

"I can tell." LaZardia nodded. "That's good too." She complimented. "I prefer to read and learn about God at home though. I know it says to listen to the message and not the messenger, but the messengers- the ones I grew up with were scandalous and sick. That's my reason."

"Everyone sins," I replied. "Church is something I think we all need. That's why I think this generation is so messed up. There's no connection to God and church is where you find that connection."

"I disagree," Tia replied. "Things were just well hidden when you all were younger. Many people were either hiding some of the things they did or what happened to them. Most times the community knew who people really were, but didn't do a thing about it. Just excuses and church. Some people are just pure evil no matter how much they pray and go to church. That's MY personal opinion." She placed her hand on her chest.

"Someway- I agree with some of what you said. Some people are pure evil, but those people aren't praying enough. Also, people say they are praying to God, but what God? Some people worship objects, volcanos, Satan, etc." I explained.

"I get what you're saying, but I'm not talking about those people. The ones I'm referring to are the ones that actually sit at the pews and pray at the churches, but turn around and do everything all over again or even worse things." Tia replied. "Agree to disagree?"

"Agree to disagree," I replied.

"Your family is very musical, do you sing?" LaZardia asked me.

"Oh, NO!" I said laughing. "When my kids heard me singing as kids they said I sounded like Mary Had a Little Lamb. They were referring to the lamb of course. It was a compliment in their eyes, but not in mine. Who wants to sound like a lamb?" I asked with widened eyes.

"Mama..." Tia hinted.

"People say I can sing." She replied to her daughter.

"Well, mama..." Tia sighed. "Those people were JUST trying to be nice to you."

"I play a few instruments while at church. Small stuff like the tambourine." I replied.

"I don't even know how to play those things." LaZardia laughed. "Good for you."

Tia and I stayed in the kitchen cooking for a while and Junior made his way back inside of the kitchen eventually. LaZardia had been left. All she did was chop up the onions, bell peppers, all the types of potatoes we're using, and green beans.

"Need some help in here?" He asked us. "Anything at all? Feel like teachin' me some things?" He looked at Tia.

"You feel like learning?" Tia asked him.

"Definitely not." He replied.

She pointed to the cheese. "You could wash your hands, grate those cheeses, and cut that one into small pieces."

"Oh, no... He probably will end up grating his fingers." I laughed. "We don't want any bloody macaroni."

"That's alright, ma..." Junior reassured me while washing his hands. "Because if I do grate a little off, I got plenty of finger left. I don't have these big hands for nothin'." He laughed.

"This guy," Tia mumbled, laughing.

"What's shifting your interest to the kitchen lately?" I asked my son.

"Just to learn. Doesn't hurt to learn, mama." He glanced at Tia. "And her-" he gestured towards her, "she said if I didn't that she'd- she'd- I can't come up with anything."

"Exactly, just be lying." Tia laughed shaking her head.

"Nah, but she told me I better learn to cook for myself and our kids because she's not goin' to be able to do it all the time. Especially when she's sick or away." He answered my question. "She doesn't want me to be experimenting then and make her even sicker or the kids."

"That's... Different..." I trailed off. "Especially for MY son. I'm very surprised at your answer."

"Why is that?" He asked me.

"Because it's just not you," I replied.

"People change." He shrugged.

"And it's not somethin' that I'm particularly used to with men. That's more of the woman's job. You know, I'm traditional." I told them.

"I know what you're saying," Junior replied. "But things change. Times change."

"No, THAT isn't so much of a bad thing, but I'm just saying," I told him.

"Please don't mix the yellow cheeses with the white ones, Donald," Tia told him.

"Okay, but why?" He questioned.

"Because I don't like yellow cheddar, so I'm making two. A white and regular macaroni." She replied.

"Babe?" He called out.

"Yes?" She turned around.

"I cut the cheese." He said then started laughing.

"Why are you like this?" She laughed. "That was SO corny."

"Nahh, it was cheesy." He chuckled.

"I'm GRATEful for your help." She poured the heavy whipping cream into the pot.

"No, I don't get- OH!" He said finally getting it. "I had to think about it though."

"I didn't. None of that was funny." I shook my head at them both.

Tia grabbed his hand and they started laughing. "WHY are we like this?" She asked him.

"Mama, it's only funny because it's really not funny. It's so corny- it never mind. Imma stop." He chuckled, giving up on trying to explain himself. "I think they- how do I finish getting these little pieces left? I didn't want to get too close and grate my finger."

"I thought you had plenty of finger left, Junior?" I asked him.

"Either way, I don't want to intentionally hurt myself."

"You could chop it up into smaller pieces, babe," Tia added the butter into the two pots.

"I can't believe I'm over here cheffin' it up!" He exclaimed slicing the cheese. "Chef Big D." He nodded.

She washed her hands again, giving him a look, shaking her head at him. "You could go ahead and put the cheese into the pot. Not too far away because it's going to splash."

"A little splash don't hurt Chef Big D and it just started boiling. When they ask who made the mac and cheese, I'm going to PROUDLY stand up on my feet." He told her grabbing the cutting board.

"Wait, let me separate this because some needs to go on top when we bake it." She told him and he put it down. "Stir the pot please."

"Don't forget that if it's nasty, you STILL gotta stand up proudly," I told him. "They are going to be mad too!" I said laughing.

"Trust the process mama." He held his hand up. "Besides, I'm not doin' it all alone. She can cook and it's Chef Big D tellin' you this. I'm a professional, mama." He held his hands out to his sides, then continued stirring. "We got to expect to get a little dirty and wet in the kitchen."

"I was gonna make the Mac and cheese myself, but since she's doing it, go right ahead," I told them.

"Okay, you can put the white cheese that I separated into the pot and stir."

When he poured the cheese, he jumped back. "Tia, that stuff jumped out at me!"

"She told you it'll do that," I told him. "Junior likes to do what Junior wants." I sang.

"You good?" she raised her eyebrows.

"Yeah, I think so." He shook his hand.

"A little splash don't hurt Chef Big D. Let me do this." Tia mocked and touched the pot. "Donald, it's on the lowest setting right now and the pot isn't even hot yet."

I kissed my teeth at my oldest child. "What was the point?"

He laughed. "There was no point. I just play too much. I got it, babe."

"I can see that." I nodded in agreement.

"Why Maria ain't in here with y'all?" Junior asked us.

"Boy, you know why?" I squinted at him.

"I mean, I'm learnin' and so could she, right?" He questioned.

"Not for no Christmas, she ain't. I DON'T REALLY want you in here, but I guess..." I trailed off.

"She can cook, but not bake is what she said," Junior told me.

"I don't like her food either. It's all disgusting." I told him. "I like the few simple Mexican dishes she makes, but other than that... -NO." I shook my head. "You almost made me say something I shouldn't," I replied. "Let's see if you're the lucky one," I told him.

"Dalvin, Jojo, and I think K-Ci had her food before. It was some years back though. It was when we first met." He told me. "A Thanksgiving meal, but I'm not sure if it was near Thanksgiving."

"It wasn't. It was like-" She squinted in deep thought, "the second month we met." She replied.

"Okay!" I hyped up. "I see you. You were cooking in the second month upon meetin'?" I asked her.

She chuckled, "yeah. Had been in New York for a long time and wasn't able to eat a GOOD home-cooked meal because I only slept in a little hotel room. So when I went to their house, I cooked."

"For everybody. Mama, I told you that. It was SO good too." He shook his head, reminiscing. "Jojo ate most of it though. Takin' all them tupperware to their apartment. Times were so much simpler then."

"I remember that day like it was yesterday." Tia chuckled.

"I do too, Ms. I Wasn't Sleep." He told her. "Just was lying." He shook his head smiling.

"I wasn't though. My eyes were just closed. Okay?" She giggled.

"Okay... Okay... Okay..." He sighed. "But I KNOW for a fact."

"You know what they say? The quickest way to a man's heart is his stomach. Here the two of you are today, standing before me." I told them.

"We are NOW. After ALL this time. Those weren't her intentions or so she says." Junior mocked.

Tia responded, "things happen the way they did for a reason. We had to work on ourselves first and then get back."

"Okay, love." He told her. "They weren't her intentions, but it doesn't mean that it didn't happen like that."

"I agree." She replied.

"So did you think anyway of my son during that time?" I asked her.

"I mean..." Tia looked at me. "I wasn't looking to be in a relationship. I knew I needed to get myself together in all aspects. However, I can't say that I didn't feel anything a little later on."

"Oh?" My son asked her.

"Mhm." She nodded at him.

"So admitted?" He questioned.

She nodded again, "admitted."

"You two are something ELSE," I said laughing.

After melting the cheese and boiling the pasta, they each pour the pasta into the pot, while I crumbled up the cornbread with my hands.

"Babe?" Junior called out to Tia as he was mixing the pot.

"What's up?" She asked him.

He smiled just mixing the pot, she gave him a look and they both busted into a laughing fit AGAIN, which I do NOT get. I guess it's just not for me to get...

"Donald..." She trailed, amused, staring into his eyes and he shrugged at her.

"What's unknown is unknown." He replied, verbally.

~Tia's P.O.V~

"Mmmm..." I moaned, "that feels soooo good. Can you go ju- just a little bit more down?" I asked him and he followed directions. "And turn up the speed please?"

Turning up the speed, he spoke, "Mmhm, I can tell. This gon' be my replacement in many ways, huh Tia?" He chuckled massaging my back with the Theragun. "You enjoyin' yourself a little too much."

"I can tell you can tell I enjoy it. Can you like... Move back?" I said reaching my hand back in an attempt to push him back which he did. "You got your junk all up on my booty."

"Wait, my back or your back?" He questioned.

I turned my head to the side to look him in the eyes after that dumb ass question. "We got the same back, Donald." I smiled at him.

"How, when we two different people?" He questioned.

Instead of replying to his question, I closed my eyes, enjoy the massage gun, then it turned off, and felt him lay beside me. Irritated, I turned around to see him getting off of me, and to follow where he went, I had to turn my head the opposite way just to see him laying down.

"You could've said you were tired, instead of stopping out of nowhere."

"But I ain't." He shook his head. "All this talk about backs, I just thought, why not lay on mines? So here I am. "I'm tired from all of that cookin' I did." He sighed.

"You're so freaking wack right now." I rolled my eyes, laughing. "All you did was help me make the macaroni and cheese, then dipped."

"Don't forget that I was shooting hoops with them. Pops KEPT on pushing me to get the ball. He was pushing ALL of us." He sat up. "Ya know, that man just don't know how to play." He shook his head in disappointment.

"And all this time I wondered who you got it from." I shook my head. "It's okay though because you do so many other things, plays so many instruments, and write," I told him. "Can't be good at everything."

"Dalvin? He's GOOD." He told me. "That's something he used to do when we lived in the projects of New York. He used to go down to the park to play ball. I had to correct that though."

"What was wrong with that?" I questioned.

"He was puttin' TOO much energy into that and not enough into music which we came there for." He replied. "Those were some fun times though."

"Oh, okay." I nodded. "That says a lot because many people say that they have the most fun times while broke. Most likely because in those times all you really have is each other to keep company and can't go out many places."

"I couldn't agree more. Lay back down though, so I can do you again." He sat up.

"But I need to watch my wording?" I eyed him laying down on my back, then flipped over.

"Babe, don't start." He chuckled. "You more than me, regardless. I can't wait to eat tomorrow though." He replied.

I turned my head to the side to look at him and laughed. "Alright, Donald."

"I ain't mean it like that or maybe I did. The point is... Whatever way I mean, I still can't wait. That shit gon' be good and I KNOW I'm gon' have a bad case of the itis." He said turning on the massage gun.

"Oooh," I moaned out in pleasure. "That feels so good."

"I'm glad that you're enjoying your Christmas gift!" He replied. "Calm down or at least don't make that noise. Or at least not so loud. There's only one room separating us from Dalvin."

"He can't hear us from there, babe," I replied moaning lowly.

"Okay, but for me?" He asked me.

"I got you," I replied. "You were wilding in that kitchen."

"Yeah, and I'm so happy that my mama ain't catch on to that macaroni joke." He chuckled. "That would've been horrible."

"You ready?" I asked him.

He sighed, "I guess..."

"You're the one that wanted to do this, so..." I sat up, "let's get to getting." I sped to the closet in his bedroom with him behind me, and I took the Santa suit from the closet.

"My parents... They weren't too happy about this and I told them that it was just about the kids. Derek is okay with it. I'm starting to rethink this." He wanted.

"If you don't think you should do it, then you shouldn't," I told him.

"This goes against my parents' views and stuff and I don't want no more problems than there are. They gon' probably blame you." He mumbled that last part. "So no, I'm not doin' it." He spoke up.

"Okay." I put it back in the closet. "On second thought, maybe I should do it," I smirked.

"Then they'll look at you weird for cross-dressing." He shook his head no.

"Then you just got this for nothing," I told him.

"Mm mm, nope." He grabbed it putting it in the closet. "And that beard shit gon' mess your face up."

"You're right." I nodded. "Well, they sat the cookie out. Let's go eat them!" I wiggled my eyebrows.

"I'm down with that. We eatin' them all too! Santa's fat ass surely would. I don't know why these people take one bite and say Santa's fat ass did that." He explained to me, laughing here and there.

"He's probably been to too many houses throughout the day and had a lot already," I told him.

"No. No. No. Ain't no way his big ass gon' fit through a chimney with ease. It's gon' take him a long ass time to get there and by the time that he does, he's probably out of breath, starving, and thirsty as hell." He laughed. "Most people in the hood don't even have chimneys, so what did he climb through? The heating vent? The radiator?"

"Santa is a man from the north pole who's used to others working for him while he just sits on his ass. He ain't comin' to no hood. Santa too scared." I told him. "Shoo, I am too." I cackled. "And I grew up in them."

"I don't blame you. I wouldn't willingly go back to one. I know I said those were the good days, but damn it, I DON'T want to go BACK." Donald shook his head at me.

I went to wash my hands, while Donald put on the boots. "Okay, let's go eat these cookies!" I told him walking back into the bedroom. "Quietly though because they kind of nosy."

"Hol' on." He went to wash his hands. "Those are a bunch nosy of kids. Elevator?"

"You KNOW that I'll be taking the stairs," I said walking out of the room.

"Even with these nosey ass kids?" He questioned, disregarding my last statement. "What happens if they see you eatin' those cookies?"

"They see you too. Santa told us that we could because we've been good and he had too many." I explained walking down the stairs.

"Dery will catch you in a lie." He shook his head.

"Shhhh." I hushed him as we walked down the stairs.

I want some of them chocolate chip cookies. My favorite!

Once we made it all the way downstairs, Donald finally spoke again. "And YOU good? Get real, love. Dery will call him all kinds of fat asses. Not in those words, but yeah..."

"Right now, I'm the fat ass." I hopped into the cushioned chair, then grabbed the plate. "Mmm," I said blissfully biting into the cookie. "Taste just like chicken."

"That's nasty!" He grabbed the plate from me and sat down on the other chair.

"Taste good to me," I said as crumbs flew out of my mouth and onto my lap and the floor.. "My bad." I covered my mouth with my hand.

I got up and sat on his lap with a smile. He held his hand off to the side with the plate in his hand and away from me. "Are you on me because of me or usin' me for the cookies?" He spoke through mid-chew.

I smiled leaning closer, putting my forehead against his, and took two white macadamia cookies, then got back up. "It was the cookie that you snatched out of my hand. They're so delicious."

He grabbed my hand, pulling me back down to his lap. "You think you're slick." He mumbled, "but I'm slicker." He took the ones I took from his hand.

"Babe, give it back, please. There are so many." I whined as he held them away from me.

We heard footsteps and kids speaking. "What are we doin' Dery?" Darnell's voice spoke.

"Well... I wanna catch me a Santa. He put me on the naughty list last year and I'm gonna beat him up." Dery replied.

"What if he's not here?" Darnell asked him.

Donald and I raised our eyebrows and I hurriedly got up and hid behind the big couch, wiping my mouth of crumbs.

"Then I'm gonna steal his cookies. He's already too fat." Dery replied.

I almost gave my spot away by laughing, but Donald quickly covered my mouth.

"Maybe you wasn't on the bad list. Maybe he just ate too many cookies to fit down our chimney." Darnell told his big brother.

"Well, Santa owes me because he NEVER gave me a boat like Moses. I was gonna take us on a trip and EVERYTHING." Dery replied.

I felt Donald hovering above me on his knees on the floor. "Get another hiding place," I whispered. "They gon' see your tall behind."

"Shhh." Donald put his finger to his mouth, silently laughing with crumbs falling. "You hear them? Bad as hell. And you gon' get us caught with all yo laughin'."

"Really!?" Darnell asked as the big light turned on.

"It's either I steal his cookies, his magic reindeer, or my boat," Dery said as the light turned on. "Shhhh, he might still be in here."

"Okay."

"Look around," Dery whispered. "You go that way and I'm goin' this way." He instructed, but I can't see.

"Ummm... The cookies are still here!" Darnell shouted.

"Oh, well. The cookies it is." Dery replied. "Hurry. You grab some too."

"Dery, I don't wanna be on the naughty list like you," Darnell whined.

"You won't be because I told you to. That only happens when you do things alone." Dery explained. "Here." I'm assuming he gave him a cookie. "Take some of the milk too."

"That ain't how that shit works," Donald whispered, laughing so hard.

"What y'all doin' in here?" I heard Maria ask the kids.

"Just checkin' to see if Santa came, daddy," Dery replied sweetly.

I moved a bit to where I'm able to see and they both held the cookies behind their backs. Donald's head is right above mines, so he could see too.

"Oh, wow," Donald whispered.

"He did. I see the milk has been drunk, but the cookies are still here." Derek told his kids, giving them a look.

I took my finger and wiped Donald's mouth of crumbs because I'm tired of them falling on me.

"He can't come until all the kids in the house are asleep," Maria told them.

"Right." Dery chuckled. "Night mommy and daddy!"

"Night night!" Darnell replied before they ran out of the room.

"Good night." The parents replied.

"They gave a whole milk mustache. How they gon' steal from Santa?" Derek said laughing, then they both followed them.

"Maybe it will help them sleep." I heard Maria's reply.

"You see how they- Dery's voice changed?" Donald spoke lowly. "He went from revenge to sweet in a matter of seconds. I told you they were bad as hell. I'm surprised they didn't bring the roll dogs Masir and DJ."

"They are young and would've made too much noise. Dery wanted to be sneaky." I said laughing.

"They turned on the big light. Kids don't think things all the way through. They ain't sneaky enough." He shook his head. "He said some, the boat, the cookies, or the magic reindeer. Hell nahh!" He said laughing.

"He probably fit down the chimney because he ate too many cookies." I mocked Darnell.

"Let me ask you this, why in the hell are we hidin' from some kids?" Donald gave me a look.

We heard footsteps approaching again and got back into position. I peeked around the corner to see that it was just Maria and Derek.

"Let's get to these cookies," Maria told him rubbing her hands.

"Wait a minute..." Derek trailed off and I didn't see him in sight.

"Where he go?" Donald whispered in my ear.

"I knew I saw some feet. Got them big ass boots on." Derek said laughing and we turned around. "What y'all doin' in here? Y'all on the floor behind the couch like this?"

Donald stood up again, then grabbed his eye. "I lost my contact." He replied while I stood up.

"You don't wear no contacts," Derek said laughing.

"I never told y'all, but those were never my real eyes. Merry Christmas... Surprise..." Donald chuckled. "No, for real. We came down here with the same idea as y'all and that's to eat some cookies. By the way, my nephews are hilarious. They got it from me." He pointed to himself.

"Oh." Derek nodded. "Let's have a little tea party then."

"I don't know where you see tea," Donald told him. "Why are there so many cookies?"

"The more we'd be able to eat," Maria told us. "We don't mind sharin'."

"Let's go get some more milk though," Derek said leaving the room.

"Babe, YOU DEFINITELY don't need no milk because you already gon' be gassy as hell and I'm not tryin' to sleep by myself." He said grabbing my hands.

"You bought almond milk." I reminded him.

"Oh, yeah..." He nodded and we continued to the kitchen.

Word Count: 6,630

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