"That's not science," I replied without turning around. "That's the sugar talking."
"Semantics," he said cheerfully, then raised his voice. "Hey Leo! Avery! What's the official breakfast ruling on Christmas breakfast?”
"COOKIES!" they shouted in unison from the living room, followed by more giggles.
“The bosses have spoken," Adrian announced with satisfaction.
I was in the middle of whisking eggs whenthe kids opened their presents.
"OH MY GOD!" Avery's shriek was so loud I nearly winced. "IT'S AN ALICORN! A REAL ALICORN!”
I turned to see her hugging what was indeed a life-sized pink ‘alicorn’ with silver wings, a horn, and a flowing mane. Tears of joy streamed down her face as she pressed her cheek to its fur.
"It's the most pretty thing ever,” she whispered, her voice high with emotion. "I'm never letting it go. Never ever."
Leo's reaction to his own gift was quieter but no less profound. His dinosaur was huge—a perfectly crafted replica of his bearded dragon Dino, but scaled up to rideable size with the same gentle eyes and detailed scales.
He stood next to it in silence for a long moment, one small hand resting on its snout.
"It looks just like Dino," he finally whispered, his voice filled with wonder. "Exactly like him. How did Santa know?"
Because Santa was a billionaire with unlimited resources and a soft spot for kids who've been through hell.
Jax gave Leo a smile from the couch, wiping what were likely happy tears from Estelle’s cheeks. "Santa knows everything, champ. That's his job."
Sierra appeared beside me, Toffee still cradled in her arms like the world's most spoiled baby.
The cat was purring so loudly he sounded like a motorcycle, clearly in heaven from all the attention and the general chaos that meant people were too distracted to stop him from his various food-related crimes.
"Look at them.” She watched Leo carefully examine every detail of his dinosaur, while Avery had decided her ‘alicorn’ needed a formal introduction to each of her dolls.
"They're happy," I observed, the understatement of the century.
"They're more than happy," she replied. "They're having the childhood they deserved all along."
That hit me in the chest because she was right. All of us, really. We were all having the childhoods we'd deserved and nevergotten.
"Connor!" Leo called out, pulling me from my thoughts. "Come see! His scales are exactly the right color!"
I dutifully walked over to admire the craftsmanship of the dinosaur, which was indeed impressive. Jax had clearly put serious thought and very serious money into making sure these gifts were perfect.
"Very realistic," I agreed. "Think he needs a name?"
"Dino Two," Leo said immediately. "So regular Dino doesn't get mad.”
I snorted.
The morning progressed in a blur of cooking, Christmas music playing softly, and the constant soundtrack of children's laughter.
I was manning multiple pans—bacon sizzling in one, French toast browning in another, a dish bubbling away in the oven.
Jax appeared at some point to "help," which mostly involved him sneaking pieces of bacon and offering running commentary on everyone else's cooking techniques.
"You know," he started, leaning against the counter with his coffee, "for someone who claims to hate everything, you're surprisingly good with breakfast preparation."
"I hate mornings," I corrected, flipping French toast with skill. "I don't hate food. There's a difference."
"Fair point," he conceded, then stole another piece of bacon. "Though you have to admit, this beats our usual Christmas mornings by a thousand percent."
