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“Mom may be a little forgetful sometimes,” my husband begins only to receive a less than clever flashing of my middle finger, “butSantaisn’t. Mr. St. Nick has everything covered. Dotted all his I’s and crossed all his T’s.”

And we have.

All Santa gifts are good to go!

“Promise?”

Wes uses the edge of his index finger to lift her chin up a little higher. “I promise.”

This.

Thisis what I wish the fucking media would capture.

Him being the great dad that he truly is.

Engaging with our kids.

Encouraging them.

Comfortingthem.

Beingtherefor them the way a dad should be versus simply shouting at them like the monster they’ve captured him being these past few days.

Notoncehave they snap a shot of him laughing with the girls or fixing their bows.

Nope.

Just shot after shot after shot of him scowling at Wy.

Wy frowning at him.

Them, yelling in the parking lot of ourcharity play eventlike they were competing to be Krampus’s successor.

Yeah.

Lotsof photos of that nonsense two nights ago has led tolotsof demands from Evie for us to flood our personal feeds withlotsof “sweet” posts from our day-to-day activities insisting that the world needs to see us spreading cheer not misery.

An undeniable grunt of disagreement leaves Wy who’s lounging in the cushioned seat next to me, not decorating.

Not drinking.

Not eating.

Not participating in anything other than being in the room.

And even that in itself is a bit of a miracle.

He slept ‘til almost noon, skipped lunch, and would’ve opted out of this if it weren’t for the fact he can’t say no to the twins.

I truly appreciate that they use their powers for evilandgood.

“Dad, Dad,” Blake excitedly jumps to her feet, abandoning the box she was digging in as well as knocking into the ornaments on the lowest branches prompting Betty to use her nose to carefully nudge them back into place. “Can we put this old megaphone thing on the top of the tree?!”

“That’s an oldmicrophone,” Wes explains at the same time he puts Brae down.

“Why’s it weird shaped?”

“That’s how they used to be shaped.”

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