Page 4 of The Omega's Beary Merry Christmas

“Pancakes?” She bounced on her bed. “Really? Can I have syrup?”

“Let’s hold off on the syrup today. Otherwise, you’ll be too sticky for school without a bath.”

She shook her head. “I took a bath last night. I’ll just have butter.” She loved them both ways and didn’t look too sad about it.

In a lot of ways, she was really grown up for a seven-year-old. She had had to be; life kind of mandated it. When it came to eating anything with syrup, though, that girl would get herself covered from head to toe. That’s why we often did pancakes for dinner—because right afterward, she could soak it all off in the tub.

I set her plate on the table just as she swirled into the room wearing her fancy Christmas dress from last year. It was a little short and tight on the arms, but it sparkled and made her feel like a princess.

She was so excited about school, she finished her breakfast in record time. Present in hand, she bounded out of the car ready for the day, and I went to work not quite as ready for mine.

The office was pretty empty—most everyone had already started their Christmas break today. I didn’t blame them. The workload was really slow between now and New Year’s, so coming into the office was basically for those banking vacation days. My vacation aligned with school break, so I’d be out of here soon enough.

I found ways to keep myself busy, mostly reorganizing my desk, until it was time to pick Natalie up from school.

Halfway out the door, my phone buzzed with a notification from the app.

New swap available.

I tapped my phone and opened it. If I was still willing to give up our home in the city for the swap, we could stay in a cabin in the mountains. From the pictures, it looked rustic at best—basically a fancy hunting cabin. I wasn’t sure if that was something Natalie would like, and as much as I wanted to be able to surprise her with a trip, this felt like a decision I needed to run by her.

After school, we went home, had hot cocoa, and held one of our family meetings. I liked making her feel like she had some say in our decisions. Of course, she didn’t know about things like money or car insurance, but for decisions like whether to get a real tree or a fake tree for Christmas, if we should go to the park or the museum, or what color to paint the hallway—her input mattered.

“How was school, Natalie?” On the way home, she’d told me everything about Mrs. Davis and the present, but nothing else. Based on the smile she was still wearing, it had been a good day.

“We had cupcakes, but they didn’t have frosting. Sally’s mom said frosting makes messes.”

They sounded like muffins with a rebranding to me.

“Do you think her mom’s right, Daddy?”

“About frosting making a mess? Yeah, she’s right about that.” But then why not bring cookies? People perplexed me.

“But frosting makes the cupcakes.”

“Are you saying we should make cupcakes this vacation?” I barely got the words out before she was bouncing in her chair.

“With extra frosting.”

“With extra frosting.” The entire jar if she wanted. If Christmas wasn’t a time for sugar overloads, I didn’t know what was.

She drank a sip of cocoa and then went on about her day. They had watched a science movie, played games, and had an assembly where the principal read about a mouse who ate cookies. There was also a spelling test. She didn’t like that part.

One thing about Natalie—she never held back. I wasn’t one of those parents who had to wait until conferences to find out what was going on at school because I knew it all. And I loved it.

She ended with a story about her friend going on vacation to the amusement park with the mouse.

“I don’t think I would like that, Daddy. There are too many people.”

She was right—there were a lot of people there. But also, there were a ton of great things to do. It was on my list of places to take her—when money was better.

“Yeah, but it’s fun. Maybe when you’re older, you’ll want to go.” It was time to bring up the cabin. I crossed my fingers it would make her happy and not sad because it was the wrong location. She was far from a spoiled brat, but disappointment happened.

“Speaking of going places, I have something to ask you. I know you wanted to go to the beach for Christmas…”

She gave me some serious side-eye. “How do you know that, Daddy?”

Oops. I’d forgotten it was part of her Christmas wish list for Santa’s eyes only.

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