The advent calendar countdown is done. The advent set family stood holding hands in a circle, just like the Whos in Whoville, waiting for the big day.

Meanwhile, just because I have a family of two doesn't mean I can't bake for a family of six. Someday we are sure to finish the chocolate crackles, gingersnaps, raspberry cream sandwiches, truffle brownies and lemon squares. (But I'm willing to accept volunteers to assist us, if you are interested.)

And it's not Christmas without daisybraid, even if, at two people, there is one loaf each and only a few days to eat them.

Christmas Eve, as I mentioned already, Frances celebrated with her father at his apartment in the Swiss tradition. I'm not entirely clear on what went on yet, except that Santa came, and it must have been very exciting because when she came back, just past her bedtime, she was limp with exhaustion and happiness. She expressed firmly that Santa only liked chocolate milk, and she was not happy that we had none to offer him. We opened her Christmas pyjamas and read her Christmas book (a tradition I'm carrying on from my family), and I poured her into bed, where she slept (thank the gods) until 7:00 in the morning. It still came too early, but not nearly as early as I'd feared.

"Should we go see if Santa came?" I asked her.

We went downstairs, and she stood and looked around the room. "He did! He came!" she said. "There are snowflake presents!"

"Look at that!" I said. "And there are presents in your stocking too. Why don't you start with those, and I'll get the daisybraid on?"

I did, and she did, and she found stickers and chocolates and a Mole Sisters book and a pen with rudolph on the end and little wooden letters that spell her name. And that was fun. But later, when the daisybraid was in the oven, and I asked her if she wanted to open her presents from Santa, she said "I'll start with the little one." She began. "There's a lot of tape."

"Yes," I said. "Santa uses more tape than Mummy does."

"Yeah." She continued on, until she pulled something small and soft and yellow out of the package. "It's a duckie." She stared at it. "It's a little yellow duckie! Mummy, it's a little duckie! This is just what I wanted! See? See?" And she thrust it toward me, it's blurried and over-exposed face to be preserved for posterity by the camera.

"Yes, I see," I said. "Did Santa bring you what you asked for?"

"Yeah! This is just what I wanted!" And the look on her face--something between breathless shock and transported joy--was the highlight of Christmas.The rest of it (the craft supply restocking that I'd packaged from Mummy in the teal paper (foam sheets and construction paper and glue and markers), the little tool set that she is planning to use to build the old house and the small lego set she got from Santa, the lego sets she got from my parents, the purse that looks like a yorkshire terrier that she got from my Mom's dogs (yorkies themselves), and the little Tanzanian Dora doll and Littlest Pet Shop toy she got from my aunt (though, to be fair, the Littlest Pet Shop fascinated her for hours and I'm sure it started a new toy craze in our household)) could not match that moment when she pulled out her first present and got just exactly what she wanted.

Later, when we'd returned from my parent's house at almost ten, and I undressed and pyjamaed her with her eyes still almost shut, pulled her sheets up to her chin and turned off the light. Then I went to get her little yellow duckie from the bag in the hall, and she opened her eyes for long enough to stretch out her arms and wrap them tightly around her new baby. She fell asleep just like that and stayed that way until morning.

Posted by Andrea at December 26, 2007 7:36 AM under Beanie Baby Brags

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