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Le Cadeux de Noel

“Mooooooooooommmmmyyy …”

“No.”

“Please, Mommy? I prwomise.”

“Promise what, Little Me?”

“I prwomise I’ll go right to bed after a story.”

“We go through this all the time, Rachel.”

“That’s true Big Me, and don’t I always go to sleep after story time.”

“Don’t listen to her Mom,” said a whiny and frustrated voice at the doorway. Jean turned around expecting to see her six year old son to have a pouted bottom lip, his feet spread apart, and his hands on his lips. She adjusted her position to look and see. Yep. There he was in phase one of Tantrum Mode. Nope, no psychic abilities needed there. Leaning against the door was her husband of eleven years. Wearing what has become signature dark neutral tones, and leaning against the door frame with his head leaning down he flashed her a not-so-innocent smile. He pushed up his red ruby quartz Oakleys up as he guided his son into the room.

*I thought you were going to put him to bed. You suck* she thought at him.

*Well, well well. Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle. Oh yea, Rachel looks real sleepy*, Scott chided her. As if on cue their five year old daughter began to jump on her bed pleading for a bed time story. Her red and green festive pajamas competed for attention with her flaming hair and blended in with her equally decorative bedspread and room. Scott gave his wife a once over and nearly purred in delight. She was wearing a what was becoming her signature look as well. A tee shirt, which had the three wise men in shorts with a gps a map and a compass all still going the wrong way, and a pair of sweat pants with food and water color stains on it made her look like a total mom. What kind of mom, ahuh, a M.I.L.F. His thoughts were about to continue when a book came flying out of nowhere and smacked him in the head.

“OW, Dear. What was that for?” His response was her narrowed eyes.

He bent down and picked up the book that was telekinetically thrown at him and it was a picture novel of a classic holiday story. “This should work. So kids, who still wants to hear a story.”

Rachel answered enthusiastically, while Nate just shrugged and gave a whatever nod.

Then he looked at his sister horror struck. “Oh god, as long as it’s not about fairies. I hate that stupid stuff.”

Rachel punched her brother in his arm. “Fairies aren’t stupid. They could kick your butt any day! Besides I love fairies.”

“Nuh uh. Fairies can’t kick no butt. They’re fairies. That’s what they do. Nothing. Excpet fly around and be annoying. Hey, no wonder why you like them.”

“MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMY! Nate’s making fun of me again.

Jean had almost made it to the door when it started.

“Alright you two. Listen up. This is how this is going to work. Both of you will spend tonight, Christmas Eve, downstairs in the living room with your father and I. We will make hot chocolate and read this story, and the both of you will like it and behave.”

“Or else,” the little boy challenged.

“Or else, or wont have a choice.”

Rachel cheered, Nate frowned, and Scott looked sad.

*Great, not you too.*

*I - - I thought that we were gonna spend Christmas Eve under the tree, you know, making sure that the base was, um, sturdy.*

Jean rolled her eyes. “That was checked earlier. And I have it on good authority that the mistletoe works and the base is very very sturdy. Like a rock.”

“Oh?”

“Yea, I had to totally pry it out of Ro.” Jean inhaled quickly and covered her mouth.

“Jesus, Jean. Was it Ro or Logan? And did you pry or did Logan just offer the gritty details, then ask if he could show you how its down? Was Ro even involved in this conversation?”

“Scoooott. Common. My feet are tired from chasing those two little boogers around everywhere. I do not have the time to chase Logan or run from him after throwing myself in front of him.”

Scott raised a brow waiting for the rest of the response.

“I was talking to Logan ok. That was because Ro was aloof as usual. It was a little weird though.”

“Why?”

“Because he didn’t throw himself at me, at all. Not in any way shape or form. It was odd.”

“And your worried about this? Are you kidding me!”

“Scott, give him some credit. After the disasters that have happened with his past attempts at relationships, and the light switch signals that he’s been through the last umpteen years with Ro, and her apocalyptic marriage, I think its wonderful they finally have decided to give themselves a chance. They both have grown up about it.”

“Yeah yeah. I’m just a little sad about not being able to lock them in the Danger Room and letting them fuck it out.”

Jean swatted his arm and walked with him down to the kitchen to make the warm confection for the children.

When they were finished in the kitchen, they settled in with their children who were already under reindeer adorned blankets next to bundles of presents wrapped in glittery paper under the gold and white lit eleven foot Christmas tree.

Even though Nate protested the story, he wanted to be apart of what was so obviously turning into a new Summer’s tradition.

Scott’s baritone voice opened the story and both the gazes of his snuggled up children and his wife held the attention to it.

“The story begins on a wintery night, very much like this. Back in the days of petticoats, top hats, and cobble stone streets.”

“Horses too, Daddy?”

“Yes, Rachel, horses too.”

“Shut up, Ray. This story will never finish if you keep asking questions.”

“Alright you two, don’t make me take away the chocolate.”

“Sorry Mom,” both children said.


“Hellooo, story guy here, with a story.”

“Go ahead, honey.”

“Trying to. Ahh, lets see. Cobblestone streets, that’s right. Well as it so happens that there lived a family on one of those streets. A father, mother, little brother and older sister.”

“Just like ours, right Daddy?”

“Something like it. But I betcha you might find something familiar about them.”

Even Nate perked up at this.

“Yes. The mother Frau Stahlbaum was from England. She had loved to have parties. Her exotic looks were always in high demand. Her dark grape hair always made excellent conversation starters. Her husband Herr Stahlbaum was often quiet the opposite. Whereas the lady of the house was often an attention seeker, he avoided it. It was his job as a bank owner to work with fiancés and people. The last thing he wanted on Christmas Day was to be bothered by more people. Especially more women. All his wife’s friends just wanted to oogle at his Adonis-like looks.”

“So, what does the action take place during the party,” Nate asked.

“No. It’s not about the adults, so much. May I finish.”

Finally, Scott started the tale of the Stahlbaum children in the peace of the Christmas eve night.





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