Page 92 of Pulled By the Tail
Don’t sleep in too late. Santa plans an early visit and wants those sweet cream buns for breakfast.
-Freema
Little feet pounced on the bed, waking her. Someone giggled in her ear. Tiny fingers—wet, how were they wet?—poked at her lips.
“Mommy? Are you awake?” More giggling.
Little monster.
“No. I am soundly asleep,” Georgia said.
“But you’re talking.” A weight settled above her, sitting directly over her bladder and the fluffy end bit of a tail brushed at her nose.
“I’m sleep talking. It’s a thing.”
“But Santa Claus came! Please, can you wake up? Pretty please?” Persistence bounced and that was the end of that game. Georgia had to pee like her life depended on it.
“Get off me, munchkin. Go wake up your father.” Georgia gently removed Persistence, dismayed to see her daughter wearing only her pajama bottoms; no top and no socks.
Justice, once sleeping and now disturbed, raised her head and hissed. She leaped from the bed and repositioned herself in front of the fire, curled up and determined to ignore the child shouting excitedly about presents and candy and Santa. Poor creature. Some of thewuapsadored the kit and followed Persistence about the house like a band of marauders, but Justice seemed to enjoy her quiet solitude and avoided the kit.
Correction knocked on the door and held up the missing clothes. “I’m sorry. She got away from me.”
“No worries, Corie. Just give me a minute and we’ll see about breakfast and then,” she paused, then whispered dramatically, “presents.”
“Presents!” Persistence bounced on the bed, her chestnut hair flying and tail thrashing about madly.
“No bouncing. Your father is old and fragile,” Talen grumbled, sitting upright. Persi leaped toward him, fingers curled to sink her kitten claws into him. They tumbled on the bed, all giggles and growls.
Georgia used the facilities, splashed water on her face and ran a brush through her hair. The hour was abhorrently early and she needed coffee. When she returned to the bedroom, Talen had wrestled Persi into her pajamas and Corie stood awkwardly by the door with her tail in her hands, like she was trying to make herself small.
“Hey, Merry Christmas and Happy MidWinter,” Georgia said. She gave her adoptive daughter a one-armed hug.
Four years ago, when Charl eventually returned from whatever he planned to do with the assassin’s list of name, he brought an eleven-year-old Tal female home with him. Apparently, Correction really was a family name and this distant cousin had been recently orphaned. Welcoming the adolescent into their home wasn’t even a question: she was family. As far as Georgia was concerned, Corie was her daughter; her very tall, moody teenage daughter.
“When did you get taller than me? Why am I just noticing now?” Georgia asked.
“You notice. You ask me to retrieve items from high shelves all the time,” Corie said. All elbows and long legs, Corie would be sixteen that spring. She hadn’t decided if she wanted azastenparty or not. Georgia suspected that her eldest was too shy to admit that she wanted a party. She wanted to throw the girl the biggest, most lavish party possible, if only to show Cori how deeply she was loved. Then again, a big, lavish party would mortify the quiet teenager. It was hard to predict how she responded. Georgia wondered if her mother struggled trying to decipher her teen angst.
“Can I have my stocking now?” Persi pointed to the red felt stockings leaning against the fireplace mantle, too heavy for their hooks.
“You already have your stocking,” Georgia said. The stocking in question lay abandoned at the foot of the bed, individually wrapped candy spilling onto the bedspread. Empty candy wrappers were tossed on the floor. “And you ate candy before breakfast.”
“That’s my first stocking. It was in my bed so it’s mine and Uncle Quil says I have more to find,” Persi said.
Georgia noticed how her daughter side-stepped eating candy for breakfast. “Why did Uncle… Santa leave candy in your room?”
“Because he’s the best!” Persi followed her proclamation with more jumping on the bed.
“I think Santa Claus got carried away,” Talen said. “He may have also mentioned a scavenger hunt.”
Persi stopped bouncing, her eyes wide. “What’s that? I want it.”
“Why don’t you give your sister her stocking?” Talen said, setting Persi on the floor and pointing her toward the mantle.
She fetched the stocking and ignored Georgia when she held out her hand, to read the gift tag. “I can read my name,” she said proudly. They had practice writing her name in block print the day before. “This says Persistence, so this one is for Corie.”
“Thank you,” Corie said.
