Thank you you for your patience and your reviews and for reading! I'm working on a Darker update, and I will get to Teddy's birth story again soon. And, there will be many more holiday stories. By my calculations, Ana is due in June... Father's Day? Enjoy! xox

"They're only little children," they said. "They're just excited," they said. "They love Santa Claus..."

They said.

"Elf, get this boy off! He's pooping on my leg!" I say to Taylor as a three-year-old lets loose down his pants and onto mine. And it's not solid matter.

"Sorry, he's training," the mom of the shitter says as Taylor lifts him off me and hands him to her.

"Training for what—to be a long distance runner?"

"Santa!" Ana says, swatting the ball at the tip of my hat.

"I messed on Santy's pants!" the kid yells and throws up his arms as if claiming victory, and the other children in line laugh and cheer. Since when is shitting on Santa something kids celebrate? It's a fucking free-for-all out there. I've been bounced on; kneed in the gut, groin and gallbladder; had hot chocolate spilled on my lap that I think gave me third-degree scrotum burns; and one girl tossed her cookies on my beard. She didn't throw up, she literally threw chunks of gingerbread man as hard as she could at my face. I still have green frosting from what used to be his gingham vest in my whiskers! Talk about the Taylor–fluffer situation—after all the rubbing and wiping down he's had to do, I think we may be legally married now in some parts of the country.

Of course Jose has documented all of this. The fucker. I take it back—Ana's T&A Elf-ette number isn't the only reason he wanted to take pictures today. He wanted to document my torture and humiliation so he and his father could laugh about it while they're sticking my doll on voodoo nights.

"I want a laser beam so I can shoot down the houses on my whole street from my room window," a kid holding some plastic machine gun with a red laser aimed directly into my right eye, tells me as he sits on my lap.

"Why do you want to shoot down your neighbor's houses?" I ask, suddenly feeling like Flynn talking to a deranged mental case. Only Flynn has the power to drug and hospitalize crazies, I have to give them peppermint sticks and gifts.

"'Cause it's cool when they explode and everything is on fire!" He starts mimicking the shots. Yeah, this kid's not a danger to society. I grab the kid's weapon, putting mass annihilation on hold, very temporarily. I'm not sure he won't leave here and hold up the local Quik-E Mart.

"How about I send you some stink bombs to freshen up your room and call it a day?"

"Hey—"

Jose snaps a photo and I motion for Taylor to get this kid the fuck off my lap, down the exit slide and out of my life.

"Santa, be nice," Ana says, straightening her little gift boxes on her table. She wiggles her ass around as she does this.

"Those are some nice gift boxes," I say to Ana in a whisper laced with lascivious intent.

"Not in front of all these kids," she scolds.

"But, I like this view." When I'm confident no one is looking, I brush the back of her thigh. She promptly swats my hand away.

I notice the photographer is adjusting his lens, probably imagining it's his own package directed at Ana's, although I'm sure there's not much to give. It's more like a matchstick and two lumps of coal in a couple of old leather sacks. But, his coal better not be burning for Ana right now.

"How many kids are still out there?" I whisper to Taylor when he returns to his elf post.

"I'd say a good four dozen, sir."

"Did the whole city come? I thought this was just for the school?"

"The school has a lot of kids, sir."

And a lot of mothers...

Two kid-on-their-hip nymphos in coordinated holiday themed sweaters and pants so tight you can almost hear the seams crying out for mercy, wave and wink at me from the line. What do they think they're accomplishing with that? My hot-as-hell pregnant wife is standing behind me. It really pisses me off how these women have no respect for her. Do they really think I'd two-time a goddess like Ana with anyone, let alone a couple of over-bleached, under-plucked broads whose sports bras can barely hold their jugs above their knees?

"Did they just flirt with you?" Ana asks, and she sounds mad. I think her pregnancy hormones are kicking in. She gets so possessive when she's bearing my young. It's so fucking hot.

"I think it was more like a call of the wild and the wild's definitely not picking up." The wild is terrified and is going to change his name, number and address just to avoid any more calling.

And just when I think horny preschool mothers are the worst of the wilderness, another beast emerges...

"It's my turn, you shits!" a boy as wide as he is tall says, pushing himself through the crowd and breaking through the rope barriers. It's like the Pillsbury doughboy if he was the devil.

"Hey, watch your language, kid!" I say, standing in front of Ana to protect her from this monster. Kavanagh can fend for herself. And I'm hopeful he'll get Jose.

"I'm not here for your na-na-na chit-chat," he says, pushing up the sleeves of his sweatshirt that reads: Rudolph Tastes Like Chicken. "I'm just gonna tell you what I want," he snorts snot back and pulls a list out from the front of his sweatpants. Why is he carrying around papers in his underwear? "My grandma's taking me to McDonalds, so listen fast 'cause I'm not gonna miss out on Christmas or McNuggets.." How old is this child? He sounds like a fifteen-year-old delinquent, but looks like a seven-year-old marshmallow. A big fucking marshmallow... Suddenly I recognize him...

"Hey, you're the kid who stuck his head in my cocoa river!"

"I did something else in it, too," he laughs and so do the other kids in line.

"What's your name?" This kid is going to be in serious trouble.

"My grandma says I can't talk to old men on a first name basis."

"Where is this grandmother of yours?"

"Why? You got two chicks on the side already." He points to Ana and Kate.

"Why you little sh—"

Ana grabs my arm and holds me back. "Santa! No!"

He walks over and hands me a list written on notebook paper that's obviously been used before and everything's been erased, but not well. Oh, it's his homework. I can make out faded chicken scratch numbers and an F at the top.

"I want video games and a new flat screen with HD 3D. And a neck pillow so I don't have to work my neck muscles while I'm watching the TV..."

"How about you get nothing and build character out of it?" I look to Taylor. "Escort this kid out."

"Hey—you can't do that!"

"I can do anything I want, I'm Santa Claus."

He leans over, takes hold of my calf and bites!

"Mother fu—"

"Santa!" Ana says, preventing my French before I have to pardon it, as she runs to me. "Are you okay?"

"I think I need a rabies shot," I say, buckled over in pain.

Taylor pulls him away using military skill and with a hefty push, gets the fat little fucker down the shoot.

"I'm telllllling Graaaaaandma!" the kid screams and it echoes the entire slide-ride down.

Of course Jose documents this, too. The kid's not even here anymore and he's still snapping away.

"Let's get you back in your chair, Christian," Ana helps me to my throne. Throne?—yes, right before the guillotine slammed down.

"Santa!" a woman calls out, but that's not a woman. I would know that voice anywhere. It's a voice straight from jingle bell hell...

"Tilly," I say, and turn to see her waving, all flirty and gargoyle-girl like. It's like she can smell when I'm wounded and can't flee easily.

She waffles up to me—not waddles, more like the breakfast food if it tried to walk. She's wearing this red sweater with white puffy balls stuck to it. I'm not sure if it's supposed to be snow or a bag of cotton balls adhered to her via a major case of static cling. Whatever the case, she's strategically placed two where her nipples should be. I momentarily wonder if they're going to fire at me. It's rather terrifying.

"What are you doing?" I ask as she heads toward me. I think she's going to stop but she just keeps coming. Suddenly everything goes fuzzy and red and I've got two balls shoved up my nose. It's because she's plopped down on my leg and all her fat is smushing into my face, so all there is is sweater covered flesh. I fight to catch my breath as her body crushes me against the wood of my chair.

"I wanted a picture with Santa Claus!" she says, wrapping her arms around my neck. "It's been a long, looooooong time since I sat in his lap."

"There's a reason for that."

I can hear Ana giggling. Why isn't she jealous of this one? Of course, no one could be jealous of a slug wearing a brassiere. Well maybe a slug-man. Speaking of which...

"Take the picture!" I yell to Jose, though it's muffled against the pit of her arm. I think she's wearing that health food store deodorant. It smells like tea tree oil and patchouli by way of organic ass.

"I gotta change memory cards. It may take a while."

That fucker. He just wants to see me die.

#######

"All in all that was a rewarding day," Ana says, straightening up the area nearly destroyed by the hurricane that just swept through.

"Rewarding for whom?" I'm still gasping to take breaths, in a state of PTSD—Post Tilly Stress Disorder. I'm going to have nightmares about red sweaters and the Whole Food personal care aisle for weeks.

"I had a blast," Jose says, camera in hand and his equipment packed. Of course he did; he got to document my suffering.

"Oh good, you're leaving," I say. Ana elbows me as she passes. "I mean, see you next year." Well into next year, I hope. Like maybe the next after that—or never.

"Don't worry, you'll see me and Dad tomorrow for Christmas dinner."

Of course.

He leaves. Fucking great. I spend every holiday with people who want me dead.

"Ana—why is he coming to our house?"

"They have nobody else."

"There's a reason for that."

"Trust me—you'll want to show him your Christmas presents."

"They better not have anything to do with you in lingerie!"

"No, but they're a direct result of it." She winks and grins.

"What the hell does that mean?!"

"Look who I found outside," Elliot says, bringing Ava, Phoebe and Teddy my way. "It's Santa Claus, kids."

"Taylor," I turn to him. "Adjust your beard; they'll never know it's us."

Taylor straightens it and I'm confident—

"Hello Daddy!" Teddy says.

"Hi Uncle Christian!"

"Daddy, why are you dressed up as Santy?" Phoebe asks.

"How did you kids know it was me?"

"Cause you look like Daddy with a furry chin and too many cookies in his tummy on half of one of your sides." Oh shit; the padding's all bunching up again.

"And elves don't wear brown beards," Ava says.

Taylor gives me a look. Yeah, yeah, he told me so.

"Where's the real Santa, Daddy?" Teddy asks.

"Uhh... He's feeling unwell," I say, thinking on my feet—or rather my fur-trimmed boots that have formed blisters the size of snowballs on my heels. "And since we're such good friends, he asked me to stand in."

"Santa's sick tonight?!" Ava asks.

"Santa's gonna die and miss Christmas!" Teddy yells out.

"Ahhhhhh!" Phoebe screams a blood curdling one.

Some kids meandering outside must hear, because there's screaming and bawling and I don't think it's because the birds of the the eleventh day of Christmas are on the loose.

"No, no. Santa's feeling great!" I yell out so everyone can hear. "I meant, he has a headache and he's just resting up for the big night tonight."

"Speaking of tonight,"Ana says, rescuing me. "You guys have to get ready for church!"

"Daddy, I'm gonna sing tonight," Phoebe says.

"Yeah, me too," Ava says and they grab hands and start in on We Tree Kings of Ornament Art. No matter how many times I tell them, they still think it's a song about a Christmas Tree decorating contest.

"Do I have to?" Teddy asks, all pouty.

"Yes!" I say, although I remember having to sing in that very same program and I never uttered a word of it. I didn't even speak in those days. And I never sang at all until Ana.

Ana and Kate usher the children out and Elliot follows.

"If you don't mind, sir—" Taylor says, his beard now off.

"Yeah, go change. I'm just straightening a few things up. I'll be in shortly."

Taylor leaves and I look at a few photo print-outs lying on the table. All these spoiled ungrateful kids... My kids may be spoiled, but they're kind. Makes you think the true spirit of Christmas has been lost. Funny, me of all people is lamenting that fact. What do I know about the true meaning of Christmas, anyway?

I hear the jingle bells ringing, alerting me to the opening door.

"Sorry—that door was supposed to be locked," I say. "I have to load up my sleigh for tonight—" I turn to see a tiny boy standing there. He's wearing dirty clothes and worn sneakers and he doesn't look like he's been washed properly for a week.

"Are you Santa Claus?" he says. His voice is so tiny it goes with his frame.

"Uh, yes." I straighten my beard and adjust my gut. "What do you want from Santa?"

"A turkey."

"Oh, I guess you've been talking to those Grey kids." One kid hears about Boone and they all want one. "Santa isn't giving out turkey pets—"

"No, I mean dinner." He steps closer to me, almost as if he's afraid to ask, but I'm the only one he believes he can. "A turkey with mashed taters and the red berries and bread..."

"You want food for Christmas?" my voice breaks.

He nods.

I sit in my chair, almost involuntarily. I need to hear him. "Come sit," I say, patting my knee.

He scampers over and climbs up on me.

"What's your name?"

"Jeremiah. Like the blue-frog."

"You mean bullfrog?"

He nods.

"My mommy says she heard it when I was in her tummy and I was jumping around..."

"How old are you?"

He holds up four fingers.

I take a breath.

Four.

He's awfully light for four. Phoebe feels much heavier than this boy and she's slender like her mother. My gut ceases up. That's how I looked at four. No youthful chubbiness or muscle, only skin and bone and surviving.

"Why do you want the food as your present?" Even before I finish the question, I'm afraid to hear the answer. I already know it, because I lived it.

My mommy lost one of her two jobs and she says we don't have the monies for a fancy dinner for Christmas. So, I thought maybe if you was Santa, you could maybe give us one. Just only for one night."

"You don't have any food?" I swallow, not much getting past the lump in my throat.

"Yeah, mostly..." And I know mostly isn't every night. "But nothing like Christmas food."

"Why didn't you come ask me before?"

"I didn't want anyone else to hear. They make fun."

"You go to the school?"

"Yeah. They don't make me pay 'cause my mommy cleans."

"Where's your father?"

He shrugs. "He didn't like me..." He then looks down at his small fingers and knots them up in a ball. "But, he didn't even meet me yet..."

For the briefest of moments I'm reminded of when Ana told me about Teddy and how I left. If I could kick myself in the teeth for that, I would. Who am I kidding?— I've beat myself up over that time and again. But, as bad as that was, it was just for a handful of hours. To really leave and not come back is a sin I deem unforgivable.

"Santa's Daddy didn't meet him either," I tell him, and it's a confession. I've never allowed myself to spend my thoughts on him—whoever he is. I do wonder in an odd moment if he's alive; if he ever knew; do I look like him and would he be proud because I did. He would be my children's grandfather... But, then I remind myself that all he was looking to do was throw some cash down and fuck a whore.

"But, you're Santa now; he should be proud you got such a big job!"

I have to laugh. He has no idea.

"My daddy is 'post to pay for my food and stuff, but we can't find him."

"Well, Santa has ways of finding people and making them pay up." I'm going to have Welch track this fucker down. "And Santa promises you'll have a nice Christmas meal with all the trimmings."

"Really?" His whole face lights up better than the tree. Most children wouldn't understand what all the excitement is about over a simple dinner. But, I do. Suddenly my Christmas spirits lift. This is what it's all about.

"But, don't you want any presents?"

"No, all I really want is to smile and eat with my mommy."

"Jeremiah!" A woman calls for him.

"Is that your mother?"

"No, that's my friend's mom. I gotta go." He gets up and runs to exit, just stopping at the doorway. "Merry Christmas, Santa!"

"Merry Christmas, Jeremiah!"

I watch him leave, then I pick up my phone and dial.

"Taylor—I want you to get together a Christmas meal tomorrow for a child and his mother, and get a big tree and some presents, and make sure they have somewhere decent to call home. Yes, the works. And have it all there tonight, so he'll have it all first thing..."

I'll also make sure there's a job for his mother at GEH that pays the wages of three. Santa may not have come for me when I waited up that Christmas Eve when I was four, but tonight Santa Claus is coming for that boy. And who knows, like me, maybe a chance meeting through an open door will change his life forever.

#######

"Oh Christian, it's so good to have you here," my mother says as I make my way into the pew, at church, with Ana. My mother takes my hand as we sit down. "I prayed for so many Christmases, before you met this darling girl, for this."

"I know, Mom," I smile and give her hand a squeeze, then put my arm around my wife.

"They let you into this place?" Elliot whispers from the pew behind me and laughs. He has no class, even in church. Although, I am still surprised they let me in here, myself.

"Who's talking?" I ask.

"Shhhh!" Grace says, warning. But, I know deep down it delights her to see her boys playing around in church again.

Reverend Walsh gives me a smile and a nod as he walks with the procession down the aisle. Even a man of faith never believed he'd see me here now. I still remember his face when I told him we were getting married, now he'll soon baptize our third child. Miracles really do happen.

The kids take center stage, all dressed like angels with halos made of wire and tinsel, singing Oh Come All Ye Faithful and getting half the words wrong. Phoebe and Ava are holding hands and swinging them into the head of the kid in front of them, who keeps looking back wondering what the hell just hit him. I can tell Teddy is just pretending to sing. Opening and closing your mouth and hoping nobody will notice you're not forming words is the oldest trick in the book. And it makes you look like a goldfish.

I remember looking out in this audience as a boy—all those eyes staring at me. I was terrified. I stood there the entire time in a state of panic, never smiling, just staring ahead and hoping it would soon be over, much like life itself. I didn't want them to see me, because I didn't believe I deserved to be seen. But now, as I sit watching my own children, holding my wife, with my family, I want the whole world to see my goofy grin.

"Why are you smiling like that?" Ana whispers to me.

"Because I'm the luckiest son-of-a-bitch alive," I whisper in her ear as I gently run my fingers across her bump.

"Do you think God would approve of such language in church?" Ana whispers, teasing.

"Actually—He'd insist on it." I smile as the children begin to sing Silent Night.

#####

"Drop the snow, Taylor!" I whisper yell to him as he stands by a grid that powers the four machines I have set up at various locations outside the house. After the last time—when we almost got shot and arrested and Taylor's head got stuck down the chimney, all in the pursuit of hanging Christmas lights—I never thought I'd be up on the roof with him again so soon, especially at almost one in the morning. But, I want a good blanket on the ground when the kids wake up. And I'm not taking any chances with those little soap blowing shits they use at the malls. Instead, I got those industrial machines they use at ski resorts so I'll be sure to give my family a white Christmas.

Taylor hits one switch, then another and twice more until all machines are up and running.

"I can't believe it!" I say, as flakes begin to fall.

"The snow, sir?"

"No, that we didn't fuck it up!"

"It really must be Christmas miracle, sir."

"Who would've thought we'd ever be here," I say as we stand together, watching our winter wonderland unfold.

"Not me, sir."

"Oh, Taylor..."

"Yes, Mr. Grey?"

"I don't want to make a big thing of it, but I got you a little something... You know, for Christmas..." I reach into my pocket and pull out a box and hand it to him.

"A Christmas present, sir?" I nod. "But, you've given me such a nice bonus and we've exchanged packages with Ana and the kids to open tomorrow—"

"It's just something from me to you."

"I'm touched, sir."

"Okay, enough with the romance, Just fucking open it, will you!" The last thing I want to do is have some ooey gooey Yuletide moment up on the roof with Taylor. "It's just a little something I thought would help you with your job performance, that's all."

He opens it—so slowly. If it's any slower, I'll have to save it for next year.

"Before the kids go to college, Taylor." My ass is freezing up here with all this snow flying in the air.

"Two tickets to Tahiti, sir?" He pulls them out and examines them. I think he's excited, but you can never tell with Taylor; it could be gas. "When are we going?"

"Not you and me, for Pete's sake!" Whoever the hell Pete is anyway. "You and Gail!" Honestly, does he think I want to spend a week with him, alone and away from most of civilization, in one of those honeymoon huts built on top of a lagoon, mostly in our swim trunks?

"How will this help me do my job then, Mr. Grey?"

"Well, I figured, you know, if you're all rested up you'll be more alert to do your tasks upon return."

"Oh Mr. Grey, it's wonderful. Gail will be thrilled." He smiles like I'm sweet or something. This may be the strangest fucking moment of my life.

"Well, you two have fun. I don't need to hear the details."

"You've never told me to do that before, Mr. Grey."

"What?"

"Have fun, sir."

"Well, we've never been up on a roof together on Christmas Eve, either." I gulp—Taylor and I are giving each other firsts.

"I actually have something for you," he says, like he's just remembered. He reaches into his pocket, pulls out a folded piece of paper and hands it to me.

"A sheet of paper? This is my present?" He nods. Gee, he really went all out.

"I found this and was going to put it in a card for you tomorrow, but now seems the right time, sir."

"What is it?" I take out my iPhone flashlight and read. It's an email dated December 2009. "Is this from me to you?"

He nods.

I read—

Taylor,

I won't be needing you over the holidays as business will be slow, so you may spend time with your daughter. Send my family some suitable gifts before you go and tell Gail to prepare meals for one, as I'll spend the time alone to prepare for when business is back up again. Christmas is a good time to get ahead, I find. People are focused on the wrong things. Christmastime is a fool's paradise.

Wow. I look up. That was me.

"I'm glad you needed me over the holidays so much, Mr. Grey." I think he's a little emotional. "And I'm happy to see you focused on all the wrong things now, sir."

"Like Ho-Ho-House lighting contests, and chopping down trees incorrectly, and blowing snow up here with you?"

"Yes, sir," he smiles. And it's a full one this time, so I'm sure it's not just gas.

"Thank you for this." I fold it up and put it in my pocket. "Now, let's try and get some sleep. The kids won't be up for hours yet."

"Should we just leave these machines running all night, sir?"

"Of course. How else do you think you get a good snowfall?"

#######

"Mommy! Daddy!" the kids say, jumping up and down on the bed. It feels like it's been five minutes since I shut my eyes. I look at the clock; it practically has.

"It's 5:45 in the morning!"

"But, it's Christmas!" Phoebe says and they jump some more.

"Careful with Mommy!" I say, directing their jumping feet away from her belly. So, they jump harder on me and my belly, instead.

"It's still dark outside!" I say.

"But, Santy's been here," Phoebe says. I heard him on the roof last night. I think he's got big feet." She must've heard Taylor and I walking around. Wait until they see the boot prints I left in the living room next to the cookie plate, and the hoof prints on the front porch with the half-eaten carrots. I wanted them to be authentic so I had the animal tamer walk a reindeer around in mud, then take him across the porch. You'd be surprised how much a guy charges to do that at midnight on Christmas Eve.

"Daddy, it snowed!" Teddy says.

"It did?" I feign innocence.

"It wasn't supposed to snow—" Ana says, then gives me a knowing look.

"The magic of Christmas," I shrug.

"And the snow is so high, I can't even see out my window!" Teddy says.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"If I reached my arms out my window all I'd hug is snow," Phoebe says, mimicking the hug by hugging herself. "It's like Frozen!"

I get up fast and run to the window. They have to be exaggerating. We're on the second floor. There's no way snow can be up to our windows—

"Oh my god—" I say opening the blinds, revealing a wall of pure frozen white.

"What is it, Christian?" Ana asks, leaning up to see.

I turn back to them.

"I think we're snowed in."

#######

Christmas morning calls and while Taylor works to get a crew to dig us out, we celebrate the morning cocooned within. I have to say, I don't mind being sealed away from the world for a little while with my family—especially on Christmas.

"Santy's been here!" Phoebe screams as she and Teddy run to the living room.

Teddy's slipper falls off midway.

"Teddy put your slipper on, you'll catch cold!" But, of course he pays me no mind. All eyes are on the tree— or more importantly what's underneath it, around it, and what's practically piled on top. He doesn't take his eyes off the glitter or gifts, even when I lift his foot and put his slipper back on him, myself.

"I don't remember buying this many gifts," Ana whispers to me, taking in the set-up Taylor and I worked on last night.

"Santa came," I shrug. She shakes her head and smiles, resting it on my shoulder as we sit on the sofa and watch the kids disappear into the wonderland of boxes and ribbons and bows.

"One at a time now!" I say. Teddy's got four in his lap he's trying to get through at once.

"How come this one's got two kinds a papers on it?" Phoebe asks, eyeing the patchwork job I did when I ran out of one pattern mid wrap. And yes, it was important to me to wrap them myself. I may not be a pro, and it may have taken Taylor and I four fucking days and as many odd hours to do it, but we did.

"It's supposed to be that way, it's the design."

Ana giggles. I pull her closer to me and kiss her head. I have to say she's looking pretty hot in that red satin Christmas robe she's tied up in. Santa may need a trip to his workshop later to really tie her up.

"Mine's all wadded up fat at one end and stapled," Teddy says, pointing to his. Oh yeah, I ran out of tape, too.

"It's what's inside that counts," I say.

They rip into the first two and soon two becomes four and four becomes six and the living room floor is buried in as much wrapping paper as the house is covered in man-made snow. I can see Chester—in his candy cane long johns—crawling through the discarded wrapping in hopes to find some fallen sugar cookie—either that or my ankle flesh. I pull up my socks.

"I got a a Debbie-Does-it-all-Doll!" Phoebe says.

"What's that?" I ask. It sounds pornographic.

"She makes me feeded her, dress her and she does potty in her diaper and I have to change her all the time!"

Ana must've bought that. I can tell by the neat wrapping and educational value.

"That's a lot of work for a toy," I say.

"But, I'm her mommy. I gotta do it."

"Tell you what, practice real good and you can change the new baby's diapers all the time, too."

"Yay!"

Yeah, that'll last once.

Ana laughs. Every time she giggles her titties jiggle. She's so fucking beautiful. When the kids aren't looking, I give her breast a brush, but she swats me away. "In the workshop, Santa."

"Open those two matching boxes over there," I say.

The kids race over, rip them open and scream in unison—

"Audis!"

"You did not get them matching R8s!" Ana says.

"No, not matching. Teddy's is black like mine and Phoebe's is her favorite color—pink."

"Since when is Santa such an Audi man?"

"What are you taking about? He's safety first. Audi does all his sleighs."

"Can we really drive them?" Teddy asks.

"Of course you can."

"I'm gonna race you, Phoebe!"

"And I'm gonna chase you and then beat your butt!" Phoebe says.

"Hey, no chasing around or beating of butts in this house!" Did I just say that?

"And what's under that big box, Phoebe?" I point.

She runs over and rips the paper off.

"A doll house!" she squeals. "And it's got all pink carpets and a bubble tub!" She means a jacuzzi. That thing is taller than her. And bigger than some real houses. We could probably claim it as another property.

"Look in the garage," I say, pointing to the driveway.

She opens the door of the four-car garage, then screams and giggles with joy. The best Christmas music I could ever here is my family's laughter.

"You did not—" Ana says.

"Yes, Barbie got an R8, too."

"Now, Barbie can race!" Phoebe says.

"Nobody's speeding! And everyone wears seat belts!" Suddenly, my future when they reach driving age flashes before my eyes.

"Teddy, sneak a peek at that. " I point to a tall package in the corner covered in Buzz Lightyear paper.

"Buzz! Where's Woody?"

"Out west, sheriff-ing things."

He rips open the paper to find an exact child-size replica of the space shuttle. That guy from NASA did not disappoint. For a moment, I fear it may really take off in the yard.

"A space ship!" he screams. "This is the coolest I've ever got ever,... Like ever in all the Christmases I was ever alive!" He jumps inside and immediately starts pretending he's blasting off and fighting aliens. I notice the aliens aren't quite as sweet and cartoon-like as I requested, but Teddy has no fear.

"And Chester got a new closet full of fancy clothes!" Phoebe says, finding the hamster wardrobe closet I had built to go in her playhouse. Yes, Chester has his own dressing room now.

"Does that say Versace?" Ana asks, pointing to a label.

"He's a well dressed rat."

"Hamster, Daddy!" Phoebe corrects, almost as exasperated as I am when Elliot calls Charlie Tango a chopper.

"And Boone got new clothes, too!" Teddy says, opening the box of poultry-sized jogging suits.

"What did Grandma Carla get you?" Ana asks. Carla and Bob weren't able to make it in today. Carla couldn't fly in my jet to see her grandkids and pregnant daughter, because Bob wanted to see his great aunt. Ana says she doesn't mind, but I know it hurts her.

"Socks," they both grimace after opening the packages, and toss them away.

"You'll have to wear them when she's in town," she says.

"They'll outgrow them by then," I whisper.

Ana gives me a look to hush it.

"What did she get you?" she asks.

I open the package.

"Socks." I toss them away. She gives me a look. "What? I'm a growing boy, too."

"I got a real trash truck!" Teddy says—him and trash.

"Yes, now you can clean your room without your SUV."

"I think there's one more big one, there, Phoebe!" Ana says.

She runs over to the package in the corner.

"My muscles is tired from all this opening of presents," she says. First world problems.

I had to cover this thing with three whole rolls of wrapping. And by cover I mean throw it on and tape it down hard. She rips away my work in one fell swoop.

"A carol-cell!" She looks up at it in awe as I stand to flip a switch and the ponies start to move up and down as they turn in a circle to their music box version of Beethoven. "With uni-corns!"

"You can put it in your room and ride it any time you want."

"You are too much, Daddy," Ana says, smiling.

"Why don't you give your mother what we bought her together?"

The kids scramble underneath the tree to find where we hid it. I had to be rather crafty; Ana's an itchy-fingered box shaker and paper peeling peeper.

"I had no idea anything was back there," Ana says as the kids hand her a gold wrapped box.

"I know," I wink, settling back in next to her on the couch.

"Oh my word," Ana says as she finds a familiar red box inside, which she opens to reveal three bejeweled charms.

"The kids and I thought we'd add to your charm bracelet, so we each picked one out."

"Mine is the pink princess crown," Phoebe says, pointing to a tiara glittering with pink diamonds that's a direct replica of the one I gave to her.

"And mine is a bear, cause that's what you call me," Teddy says. "But, don't show my friends."

"They're so beautiful! I love them so much!" She hugs them and then examines the last one. "An X?"

"No," I rotate it. "It's a plus sign." She looks bemused. "Because you always give me more..."

"This is the best." Tears pool in her eyes as she clasps it in her hand and holds it to her heart, then leans over to give me a kiss.

"And that's not all! I have a surprise for everyone—" they're all staring at me, in anticipation. "Phoebe, where does Eloise live?"

"The Plaza!" she stands, throwing up her arms.

"And where do the best, biggest dinosaurs live, Teddy?"

"Jurassic Park!"

"No! Where do you see the bones?"

"They have them at Jurassic Park, too."

"No, in real life!"

"The museum?"

"Yes! And where is the best place in the world to celebrate New Year's Eve?

"New York City?" Ana asks.

"We're going to New York for New Years!" I say. "And I've got us the grandest suite at the Plaza!"

"Just like Eloise!" Phoebe squeals.

"We're not staying at the apartment?" Ana asks.

"Well, I thought we could celebrate with the kids early in the evening at the suite and you and I could celebrate more that night back at our apartment, while Taylor and Gail stay with them."

"You mean play, Santa." Ana whispers and she bites her lip.

"Oh yes, I have a few new games I'd like to play with you, Mrs. Grey."

"What kinda games are you gonna play?" Phoebe asks.

"Nothing you need to know about until you're thirty."

"We got you a present, Daddy!" Teddy says, handing me a good sized square, flat box.

I had no idea this was back there," I say to Ana.

"I know," she winks in return.

I slowly open one end, taking in the beautiful wrap job—well, beautiful because my kids did it. It's got three odd bows, Sesame Street paper and a card attached that reads Daddy, but with the big D backwards and the y falling off like it's about to jump ship, but hasn't fully committed. However, I do have to note they did a neater job with the tape than me.

I open it up and my heart stops. It's a picture drawn in crayon and framed in gold. It's a mom with a large belly in a yellow dress, a boy and a girl, and a dad with floppy copper hair in a gray suit coat and pants that only come down to his knees. And he's smiling. I touch his face. "Is that me?"

They nod. And I marvel that this is how my kids see me—smiling. Nobody in my life has ever seen me like that before.

"It's our family," Phoebe says.

"We even drew Chester and Boone," Teddy says, showing me the large mahogany bird and little yellow fluff ball near his feet.

I'm speechless for a moment, taken back to that picture I drew for my mother as a boy. The streaks of blue that were her hair. What Was. What wasn't. What is now.

"Look at the engraving at the bottom," Ana points, and there are tears in her eyes.

"Mine," I read, and I touch the letters, because I want to feel that they're really there.

"Do you like it, Daddy?" Phoebe asks.

I must've been staring at it for longer than I thought, because they're all waiting for my reaction. But, it's not something I can adequately put into words, so I don't.

I pull both my kids into my lap and with my arms around them and Ana, I hold them as close as I can. I notice not one inch of my chest is left untouched, and I also notice I'm smiling.

"This is the best Christmas present I've ever been given," I say, kissing each of them.

"Your eyes are wet again, Daddy," Phoebe says.

"Yes, they are." I smile. Because, this time I'm not crying for what was lost, my tears are for what I've found.

#######

The kids are passed out sleeping amidst the paper and toys as Ana and I sit curled up on the sofa, drinking coffee and cocoa, listening to Christmas music and watching the scene.

"Well done, Mr. Grey," Ana says, tucking her head against my shoulder and curling her legs over my lap, as I stroke her hair. "A little over the top, but wonderful."

"Would you expect anything less?"

"No." And I can feel her smile against my neck.

"I wonder if Taylor has made any progress on that snow. I want to play with the kids out there."

"Oh, I hope so! The family will be here soon."

"Then again, maybe we shouldn't dig ourselves out just yet—" She gives me a playful swat. "What? This is all the Christmas I need right here anyway."

"Me, too." She curls in closer. "But, they are so looking forward to it. I should probably get this mess cleaned up."

She starts to move and I pull her back.

"No, leave it for awhile longer. It's beautiful."

"The wrapping paper and tissue and torn through boxes?"

"Yes." I grin. I don't want to clean up Christmas too fast. I want to remember all this. "Besides, I think it's time for your present."

"But, you already gave me such beautiful things—and the charms."

"Just think of it as a gesture to make up for the fact the twelfth day of Christmas couldn't get through the snow today."

"I'll never get to see the drummer's drumming, she laughs.

"Well, at least I don't have to listen to those pipers anymore—or those maids!"

"I think they liked you."

"The feeling was definitely not mutual."

I quietly pull out a box from the table behind me and hand it to her.

"It's wrapped in ice cream cones," she giggles.

"Vanilla. I saw the paper and I couldn't resist." I grin. "Go ahead, open it up."

I nervously wait as she unties the bow and peels the paper back.

"Oh Christian," she says, opening it to find another familiar red box.

"You haven't even seen inside."

Rubies framed by diamonds sparkle up at her as she lifts the top. She gasps when she sees it. And that's my gift, to watch the jewels light her eyes.

"This is not a trinket. These are... I don't have words." She marvels at the necklace, touching the blood red stones..

"Do you like them?" I so hope she does.

"They're exquisite."

"Like you." I take them out and she lifts her hair as I place them around her neck. "I wanted to give you something that will always remind you of this Christmas. It may have been crazy and over-the-top and out-of-control at times, but it was ours.

"Ours," she says, touching the stones over her heart and I use my thumb to wipe the tear falling from her lashes.

"Don't cry, Mrs. Grey"

"I'm just so happy."

"I know."

I stroke her face and she places her hand on top of mine, and pulls it to her lap to hold.

"I was going to save this for later tonight, but I have one more gift for you, Mr. Grey."

"Ana, the children are in the room—"

"Not that! A real gift."

"Trust me, that's a real gift." I lean in to nibble her ear. "Maybe we can sneak away—"

"Stop it! I really have something for you." Suddenly she's serious.

"What?—no. I thought we exchanged everything."

She shakes her head and then tip-toes over to the end table, opens a drawer and quietly makes her way back, carrying a small flat white box with two yellow bows on top that look to be purposely placed in a line, side-by-side. She sits and hands it to me.

"What is this?"

"Remember the other day when I said I had an appointment about your gift and there would be two?" she asks.

"Yes," I say, opening the end of the package. "I thought that was the driving gloves.

She laughs.

"Well, I thought I was going to get you one gift, but like everything with us, it turned out to be another first..., or second, depending on how you look at it..." She's talking so breathy and excited. What could this be? "You should really look at it."

I open the box to find another frame—this one silver—with what looks like an ultrasound picture.

"Is this our new little blip?"

She nods, beaming from ear-to-ear.

"You got me a framed picture? I love it—" I lean in to kiss her, but she puts a finger to my lip.

We're not done here...

"That was my intention yesterday; to go to Dr. Greene to get one to frame for you, but... Take a look at the picture."

"I did, there's our blip—" I point to it.

"No, take a closer look..."

What is she up to? For a minute I'm terrified there's something wrong with our child, but then I figure she wouldn't give me the news as my Christmas present. I look closely and examine the picture. Am I supposed to be looking for a penis or something? No, it's too soon and I can never detect genitalia on these things undirected. And she knows that; every time I showed off Teddy's ultrasound I kept bragging as I pointed to his arm. I don't see anything different. It all seems usual—name of the mother at the top, white noise, two little blips—

Two little blips?! I do a double take of the double take.

"Two blips?" I say, the two catching in my throat. I look up at her and she nods. "Two? You mean—" She nods again. "I knocked you up twice?." She nods again. "At once?" She nods once more. "We're going to have twins?"

"Yes!"

I put the picture down and pull her into my arms to give her the biggest, wettest kiss I can without taking her right here on the sofa.

"That's why you're so big?' I hold my hands on both sides of her face so I can really see her.

She nods again.

"I couldn't believe it when she told me," she says. "I guess the other heartbeat was hidden before... But, she says we have two healthy babies—"

"Two healthy babies. Oh Ana, I love you so much!"

"I love you, too!"

I kiss her again and again. I can't stop.

"What's all the noise?" Teddy asks, waking up from the floor.

"Mommy and Daddy are kissing again," Phoebe says, rolling her eyes, just like her mother, as she yawns.

"Kids—we have big news! Mommy's having twins!" I say.

"Yay!" Phoebe says. "Two sisters!"

"No, two brothers!" Teddy says.

"Sisters!" Phoebe shoves.

"Brothers!" Teddy shoves back.

I pull them apart just before there's a knock-down drag-out in the holiday wrapping. How are we going to handle four? Four! I can't contain myself.

"We don't know what they are yet," I say to the kids, then turn to Ana. "We don't know that, do we?" She seems to be finding everything out without me, but who fucking cares—it's twins!

She shakes her head. "Next month."

"Sir," Taylor says, entering from the foyer. "Most of the walkway is cleared away—"

"Taylor—" I run over to him and give him a hug. I think he's taken by surprise. "It's the best present I could get!"

"Don't mention it, sir. I used to dig my mother out after blizzards as a child..."

"Not the snow! I'm going to be a father—twice!"

"You already are, sir..."

"No, I mean at once—again! I'm doubling my lot in one shot!"

He looks confused.

"We're having twins, Taylor," Ana says, and I think she's laughing at me or with me—who the fuck cares. She's laughing and it's the greatest sound in the world.

"Congratulations, Mrs. Grey, sir!"

I return to Ana and pull her into my arms.

"Merry Christmas, Mrs. Grey."

"Merry Christmas, Christian."

And we kiss. Who the hell needs the mistletoe when you're having twins?

#######

"I didn't know it snowed," my mother says, entering the great room with my father, Mia and my grandparents as they all balance armfuls of gifts. I can spy all of Mia's—they're pink and polka-dotted with fuzzballs for bows.

"It was an isolated storm, I say," as I help them put the packages around the tree. We just cleaned up this place, now it's time for round two. Two! It's my new favorite number.

I think Chester—in his faux fur hoodie and ski pants— just found a girlfriend in one of Mia's bows.

"Ava's here! Ava's here!" Phoebe says when the doorbell rings and she rushes with Ana to greet my brother and his brood. Jose and his father are right behind them.

"Merry Christmas, Mr. Rodriguez," I say to the old man and nod to Jose. "Has it been good so far?"

"I passed stones last week." Jose Sr. says, like that's my answer.

"Well, good to get that out of the way before the new year."

"There's so much powder out there, you could ski off your front porch," Elliot says.

"I nearly got hit by an avalanche on the way in," Kavanagh says. I briefly wonder if I should send her back out for something to see if two times is the charm. Two!

"What are you wearing around your neck?" Kavanagh asks Ana.

"My Christmas present," Ana beams and Kate's eyes practically pop out of her head. That's right, look at my rubies and weep, Kate.

"Well, I hope she got you something good in return," Elliot says.

"Oh, she beat me—two-fold."

"Why are you smiling so much?" Mia asks me.

"I just love that everyone is here."

"I think he just gave his wife the big package!" My grandfather says and Elliot and Kavanagh laugh.

"Dad!" Mom says. Poor Grace.

Taylor and Gail enter with Sophie. She's almost all grown up. When did that happen? The kids run up to her excitedly as she's part of the family, though I think Teddy has a bit of a crush. I remember first meeting that child when she was just as little older than my own. Like most people, I think she was scared of me then, but not anymore.

"Uncle Jose!" Phoebe and Ava say, running up and hugging him. Why do they like him so much? I'm the one who gives the big presents.

"Hey girls!"

"Guess what I getted for Christmas?" Phoebe asks.

"I don't know, what?"

"Santa brought me snow! And a dollhouse! And a new Audi! And twin sisters!"

The whole room stops. Well, I guess the cat's outta the bag now. And the fact that my girl dropped it right on Jose's head has me smiling from ear-to-ear.

"Lucky!" Ava squeals and she and Phoebe hold hands and jump up and down. "I want two sisters, Mommy!" Ava says to Kavanagh and I think I hear Elliot gulp.

"You could borrow them when I'm not playing with them," Phoebe says.

"What did Phoebe just say?" Kavanagh asks, looking straight at Ana.

Ana smiles and nods.

"You're having twin girls?"

"I don't know that yet, but yes, we're having twins!" They both squeal and jump up and down just like Ava and Phoebe did.

"I knew my boy shot straight!" My grandfather says. He gives me an enthusiastic, and apropos, two thumbs up, then mimics shooting his finger guns.

"Dad—" Grace says again—her face the color of the cranberries—then turns to me and smiles. "Oh Christian, Ana, I'm so happy for you!" She hugs us both and my father does the same.

"Do you get two from two times in the same night?" my grandmother asks. Why is my family so painfully embarrassing?

"Did you hear that, Elliot?" I ask. "Two-for-one..."

"Damn man, you're gonna be the old man in the shoe," he says. "Congrats bro, I'm proud of you." He pats me on the shoulder and I think, for once, he means it. "You're sure making up for lost time since Ana popped your cherry."

I roll my eyes.

"I'm so happy for you, Annie," Ray says, pulling her into one of his patented bear hugs, then me. "And to think I wasn't so sure when you asked me for her hand." He pulls back, gripping my shoulders as he looks up at me and smiles. "Thank you for making my little girl so happy."

"Always." I wrap my arm around Ana and give her a sweet kiss.

I hold Ana close and watch as my family talks and laughs, really about nothing, which makes it all the more something. It's the nothing you remember anyway. The kids are chasing each other around the tree. The smell of holiday fare permeates the air. And as I look out on all of this, I think maybe I was right when I wrote that email all those years ago. Christmas is a paradise for fools.

And I'm their proud fucking king.

#######

"Santa Claus," Ana peeks around the corner from her dressing room as I sit in full suit in the bedroom, waiting for her in my chair.

"Yes, young lady?"

"I love what you gave me this morning..."

She comes out wearing nothing but her sky high Louboutins and that necklace.

"Oh trust me, there's evidence to suggest I love it more."

She smiles and slinks over to me. I run my hands up her thighs to her hips, along the curve of her waist, then to her belly. I kiss her bump twice and then pull her to sit on my lap, just narrowly escaping that evidence.

"These are beautiful," I slide my fingers from her jewels to the real prize—her ample breasts—then brush and pinch her nipples.

She throws her head back and moans.

"Even bad girls get rewarded on Christmas," I say, continuing my torment.

She brings her head to straight, then leans in and whispers in my ear— "But, I think you forgot to give me my big present." She reaches down and strokes the gift she intends to receive. "Will you come down my chimney again for me, Santa Claus?"

"Oh yes. For you, Santa's definitely going to come again."