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She hums, shaking her head. “You hate Christmas.”
I roll my eyes. “I do not.”
“You’re a Grinch.”
I shoot her a flat look and she smirks. “Seriously, Nol. Spill. Because if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were finally gettingla-ai—” she starts to sing-song when I slice a hand through the air, turning my wide gaze to the hall where tiny footsteps pad across the floor.
Mel snorts. “Oh relax, she has no idea what that even means.”
I slide her a glare just as Abby jumps into the kitchen with a growl, hands raised in claws, her bear cub hat tugged over her head, furry ears poking out.
Gasping, I grab my chest. “A bear! Hurry, Mel, get the hose.”
“Daddy,” Abby giggles, dropping her hands. “I’m a gremlin. Water’ll just make more of me. ‘member?” And she starts hopping around on her little feet, making popping sounds as she clenches at the air.
Fighting a laugh, I nod. “Right. How could I forget?”
Mel sighs in exasperation. “I can’t believe you let her watch that movie.”
Grabbing Abby by the waist, I throw her over my shoulder. She squeals, squirming, trying to climb down my back, so I twist her, setting her on my shoulders. “Come on, Mel, it’s a classic Christmas movie. I watched it every year with Pops growing up.”
Mel makes a face. “It’s terrifying.”
“How old were you when you first watched it?”
She opens her mouth, closes it, fumbling for words.
“Exactly,” I say, pointing at her.
“Daddy!”
“Yes, Abby?”
“It’s Gizmo.”
“Oh, right, my bad,” I say in a very serious tone. “Yes, Gizmo?”
Mel huffs, but there’s no mistaking the laugh she’s trying to hold back.
“Can I open my presents yet?” She tugs on my hair, so I tip my head back to look up at the cutest, sweetest, most innocent smile to ever grace my eyes.
Little devil.
“Well—” I start to cave, but Mel’s quick to sweep in and be the much-needed bad guy.
“No, Abby, not until after supper.”
She blinks, scrunching up her nose. “Can I have a cookie then? For com-pen-ation.”
I cough.
Mel shakes her head amused. She gives me a look. “Let me guess, you taught her that word.”
I nod solemnly. “Every child needs to know how to barter. It’s an important life skill.”
Shaking her head, she grabs a gingerbread cookie from one of the cooling racks, breaking it in half and taking a small bite.
“Mommy,”Abby whines, making grabby hands at her.
