Page 38 of Finding the Pieces

“It is?”

“Yes, slow down and try not to move the box too much. Hopefully it isn’t already broken,” I say with a grimace.

The worried look on her face almost has me feeling guilty for teasing her.

“Dom,” she says, voice full of reprimand. She drops her hands to her lap, box included. “This is a box of puzzle pieces.”

“Like I said, precious cargo.”

“You said very fragile.”

“Nope, gotta get your ears checked, love.”

She rolls her eyes, before I catch a glimmer of excitement in them as she looks at the puzzle pieces.

She digs around, pulling one piece apart from the rest. “My first Ellie piece?” she asks, failing to mask her eagerness.

I grin and nod. “This one is from Luca.”

She turns, gasping and smiling at him, tickling his belly. “You got this for Momma?” she squeals and he giggles, flailing his arms as he unsuccessfully tries to swipe the puzzle piece from her hand.

She turns the puzzle piece over to read it.

“Next year, it’s Momma’s turn.”Her brow furrows in confusion. “I don’t get it.”

“I got Aiden’s blessing to adopt his family’s Christmas tradition,” I say.

Aiden’s mom started this tradition when he was younger. He and his mother and sister take turns choosing a new ornament for the tree each year, slowly building their collection, each with a special memory and meaning.

The whole thing is really sweet. And of course, something Ellie told me she loved when we heard about it. She’s an absolute sucker for holiday cheer, magic, and decorations. But more than anything, she loved the sentiment behind the idea, and I loved the thought of incorporating the practice into our small family’s future traditions.

“Luca picked the ornament this year,” I point out. “But like the puzzle piece says, next year, it’s your turn.”

I hand her another box. “I promise this one is actually fragile.”

Ellie slowly peels the paper away and bursts out laughing. “Babe, what is this?”

“What do you mean? It’s the ornament your son picked.”

“You didn’t give him any direction at all?” she asks, disbelief heavy in her voice.

“Uh, no, then it wouldn’t behischoice.” Clearly, she’s confused.

“Our son is just starting to walk. How did he even pick? I’d pay a million dollars to watch my eccentric husband and happy-go-lucky toddler in the holiday aisle. Please, paint me a word picture.”

“Okay, so I took him to the craft store you like, where they have all the holiday aisles we’re never allowed to skip.”

“Great first step.”

“Then I took him down every aisle so he could scan all his options. Let me fucking tell you, there area lotof options. There was one I thought he might pick. It was a baby bottle. In the end, I’m sure he vetoed it because it’s a little inaccurate in his case. A boob ornament would have been more realistic, but for some reason they didn’t have one of those.” She rolls her eyes, and I continue. “But this is where we ended up. In the festive animal aisle.”

She lifts the glass ornament, admiring it thoughtfully, the corner of her mouth lifting.

My family doesn’t live a perfectly curated, photo-album-ready type of life. Why would I want an ornament that didn’t feel like us? This absolutely did. So, when Luca didn’t want to see any other choices after he set his eyes on this one, I couldn’t agree with his choice more.

“Well, a llama in a party hat is certainly a memorable first ornament to kick off the Moretti tradition,” she says.

“The first of many,” I say, dropping a kiss to her perfect lips. “Can’t wait to see what you pick next year.”

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