Page 124 of Santa Daddies
“What’s in it?”
He laughed. “Babygirl, you’re going to have to unwrap it to find that out.”
“Oh, right!” I tossed the now empty-for-sure stocking aside and gave the satin green ribbon a tug. “It’s almost too pretty to unwrap,” I said and then giggled. “Butonlyalmost.”
Daddy chuckled but I was concentrating on trying to guess what the present could contain. It was bigger than any jewelry box that one of those beaded bracelets might have come in but wasn’t as big as the box that would be necessary to wrap the new book I’d received either. With the bow undone, I carefully slit the tape and unfolded the red wrapping paper. Setting it aside,I opened the black box and the looked up to stare across the couch. “It’s a pig!”
“A pig? Like a peppermint pig?” he asked, leaning forward.
“Yes,” I said with a smile. “I guess they weren’t all bought after all.”
“Guess not,” Daddy agreed, setting his mug on the tray beside my still half-full one.
I lifted the pig out of the box and was about to kiss its little snout when I frowned. “Where’s the note?”
“It’s not there?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Maybe inside the bag?” he suggested.
“Oh, it could be.” I set the pig in my lap and reached in the box and pulled out the red velvet bag and opened it. Reaching inside, I pulled out the contents. “No note, just this.” I held out the silver mallet to show him.
“Well, I don’t know what to tell you.” He stood and picked up the tray. “I’m going to get a refill and heat your cocoa for you, then we can open presents from under the tree.”
“Okay,” I said, not meaning to sound a little disappointed, but even though it was silly, I’d really kinda hoped to find a note.
Daddy was halfway across the room before he turned back. “Oh, maybe it’s inside the pig?”
I looked up and shook my head. “The pigs are pretty solid, otherwise they wouldn’t hold up to being smacked too many times.”
He shrugged. “Just a thought. I’ll be right back.”
“Okay,” I repeated and looked at my lap. Had the pig been as heavy as the ones we’d sold? I thought he might have been lighter, but maybe this was Noel. I’d sort of forgotten the different sizes since I no longer had any left. Feeling a bit silly, I picked up the pig and held him up. “Are you hiding a note from me, Mr. Piggie?”
If he was, he was keeping it a secret as no answer came. I shook the pig, attempting to hear if anything rattled inside but heard nothing. My eyes caught the glint of silver I still held in my hand.
“I guess there’s only one way to find out,” I muttered, lifting the mallet and then said, “Wait! First, I want to say how grateful I am for my Daddy and how blessed I am to be with him and to have all my friends and I want to thank you and all your friends for making it possible to bring joy to so many children. Merry Christmas, Mr. Piggie.”
This time, I did kiss his snout and whispered, “Close your eyes,” before holding him flat on my palm and hitting him with the mallet. When he didn’t shatter, I was sorta glad, but could swear I heard Henry saying, “You’re still hitting like a girl!” Taking a better grip on the mallet, I squinted my eyes and smacked the pig harder and then shouted when it broke, not in a dozen pieces, but basically in half. And lo and behold, there was a note!
“Daddy! I found it!” I shouted. “The note was inside!”
“That’s great, babygirl. What does it say?”
Oh, I guessed I had to read it to know. I set the mallet aside and carefully laid the two halves of the pig back inside its box, licking my fingertip and tapping the few pieces of candy that hadn’t quite survived the mallet. Sticking my finger in my mouth, I sucked off the peppermint and smiled as I thought of the opal in my belly button.
“Well?”
“Huh? Oh, the note!” I shook my head and wiped my finger across my knee before unfolding the piece of paper.
At first I couldn’t figure out what the note said as it didn’t look like any thank you note I’d ever written or received. Then I realized that it was a poem. That thought brought my head up to yell, “I think Dicky stole a piece of your list, Santa Daddy!”
“Sneaky bugger,” he declared. “So, what do you have to do?”
“I don’t know, I haven’t read it yet, but it looks like a poem.” When no reply came, I shrugged. I was pretty much a pro at this by now, so by the time he returned, I’d be able to tell him what the list required of me. Dropping my gaze, I began to read the stanzas.
Christmas is the most magical time of the year,
