Page 60 of All of Me

Barrett is already at the tree, carefully sorting through the presents and reading the tags aloud. “This one’s for me! And this one’s for Sara! Ooh, this one’s for Ruby!” He pauses, holding up a smaller package with a grin. “And this one’s for you, Dad!”

“Santa knows I’ve been good, huh?” I tease, setting Ruby in Callie’s arms before joining Barrett by the tree.

He shrugs. “Probably.”

Callie laughs, settling onto the couch with Ruby and Sara. “Alright, Mr. Santa Helper, why don’t you pass out the gifts?”

Barrett takes his job seriously, delivering each present with the precision of an assembly line worker. Sara gets the first one, a doll from her grandparents, and squeals with delight as she clutches it to her chest. “Baby!” she declares, hugging it tightly.

“That’s right, baby,” Callie says, her voice full of warmth. “What are you going to name her?”

“Baby,” Sara repeats with a determined nod.

“Solid choice,” I say, earning a laugh from Callie.

Barrett tears into his airplane set next, his eyes lighting up as he pulls the pieces from the box. “It’s so cool! I’m going to build it right now!”

“Breakfast first,” Callie says firmly, though she’s smiling. “Then you can build it.”

Ruby watches the chaos with wide eyes, her tiny hands flailing as if she’s trying to join in. Callie leans down, kissing the top of her head. “Next year, sweet girl,” she whispers. “Next year you’ll be right in the middle of it.”

We spend the morning opening gifts, the living room quickly becoming a sea of bows and wrapping paper. Barrett insists on helping Sara with her packages, though his “help” mostly consists of ripping the paper while she protests. Callie sits cross-legged on the floor, snapping pictures of everything, her laugh filling the room every time Barrett says something ridiculous.

At one point, Sara toddles over to me, her doll in one hand and her blanket in the other. She climbs into my lap, curling against my chest with a contented sigh. “Owie,” she murmurs, patting my arm.

My heart swells, and I glance over at Callie, who’s watching us with an expression I can’t quite describe. Love, maybe. Gratitude. Whatever it is, it makes me feel like the luckiest guy in the world.

When the gifts are all unwrapped and the kids are busy playing, I lean back on the couch, pulling Callie into my side. “Merry Christmas, dollface,” I whisper, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“Merry Christmas,” she murmurs back, her head resting against my shoulder.

The chaos, the mess, the early wake-up call—it’s all worth it. These are the moments I’ll hold onto forever, the ones that remind me what it’s all about.

This Christmas, I feel like I’ve got everything I’ve ever wanted.

After the kids are finally settled in their room for nap time, the house falls blissfully quiet. Callie is curled up on the couch with Ruby in her arms, the baby finally drifting off after a spirited morning of being passed around like a tiny Christmas celebrity. I linger in the kitchen, cleaning up the remnants of breakfast and wiping down the counters, when my phone buzzes on the table.

Luke:

Merry Christmas, boys. Did everyone survive the morning chaos?

I grin, picking up my phone and leaning against the counter as I type.

Me:

Barely. Barrett woke us up at 6:30, and Sara tried to open half the presents before we got to the living room. But yeah, we survived. You?

Will:

I don’t even know what time it is. Haven’t had coffee yet. Send help.

Vince:

My kid woke me up by jumping on my stomach. It was super festive.

I laugh under my breath, the sound drawing Callie’s attention. She glances over, a curious smile on her lips. “What’s so funny?”

“Group chat,” I say, holding up my phone.

---