Page 30 of Reindeer in the Headlights
There had been days since Wilder’s birth when I wasn’t sure how we’d survive these first months. But with the support of my mate and our family, maybe we could do this.
“I miss Wilder.”
“Go to sleep. He'll be back before you know it.”
18
AMBROSE
“I thought you spoiled the cats,” I said, sitting on the floor across from my mate, who was busy wrapping up our son’s Christmas presents. “They have nothing on Wilder.”
“Not all of these are his.” Wyndham didn’t look up, placing the final piece of tape on his current wrapping project.
“You mean that one pack of cat treats there,” I pointed to the sole cat item in the mass spread of gifts.
“Maybe, but that’s because I already wrapped the cat gifts yesterday. They’re in the closet.”
It was true. I’d seen them. They had a ridiculous amount, too. They were much older now and looked like full-grown cats, nothing like the cute little bundles of fur that joined us last year. But they were still our kittens, our babies, and now they treated Wilder as their baby. It was cuteness overload.
“All right, pass me something from the pile.”
My parents told me that kids loved the ripping of the paper the best, so if that were the case with our son, he was going to havea blast. I didn’t think it would be, though. He wasn’t old enough for that, or for any of the Christmas festivities we had planned. But last year, my mate and I spent Christmas together, just the two of us, and we decided that was going to be how we rolled as a family. That meant tomorrow it would be the three of us, the two cats, and no one else.
“Next year, we’re going to have to start wrapping earlier than Christmas Eve.”
We had only gotten home half an hour earlier from spending time with my parents and extended family. Wilder was great about sleeping, something new, but next year, when he was toddling around, I doubted he’d go to bed early just so we could wrap his gifts.
I picked up a rubber duck and did my best attempt at cutting a piece of paper that would fit. I wasn’t going to win any present wrapping awards anytime soon.
“Your dad told me that your parents used to stay up ‘til, like two in the morning wrapping your gifts growing up because you and your brother were never great about sleeping before the big day.”
I loved that my parents got along with my mate, but he didn’t need to know everything about my childhood.
“Well, that might be the same for us.” And I didn’t think I’d mind.
We had music playing in the background that was an eclectic mix of everything from The Chipmunks to orchestras to Bing Crosby. It was festive and exactly the perfect vibe for our task. We hummed along as we wrapped the gifts.
I felt really good about what I picked out for my mate this year, but nothing would top the gift that we got last year… the news that we were going to have our first child.
“Do we dare put them under the tree?” I asked. Tinsel and Mistletoe were sleeping in front of the fire, but that was no indication that they’d behave.
“Maybe not the cat treats.” He grabbed them and strolled over to the cabinet where the rest of the cat presents lived while I piled the rest of the gifts underneath.
Then we both took out the presents we had for each other and put them there as well. We decided that whoever got up the earliest would put the cats’ gifts under.
“Now it looks like Christmas.” I hugged my mate, side-stepping and taking him with me until we were both standing under the mistletoe. “Oops, I guess we have to kiss now.”
“Oh no! How did that happen?” He leaned in and brushed his lips against mine before deepening the kiss. We’d have stayed there longer but Wilder picked then to stir.
“I’ll get him. He’s probably hungry.” Wyndham gave me one last peck and went to take care of our son.
“Hot cocoa?” I called out.
“Yeah, that sounds great.”
I put on the kettle. We were having instant. There was something wonderful about having fancy cocoa made with fresh melted chocolate and milk, but there was a nostalgia to the powder packets with canned whipped cream on top. I took out the Tupperware we kept the cookies we’d made in. That was another tradition we kept. Only this year, we had really goneoverboard. Everybody we ever knew got cookies, and we still had enough to keep our dentist busy.
I set it on the coffee table with our cocoa. My mate joined me on the couch, our son in his arms in a state of not quite asleep, but on his way there.
