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She nods. “We made popcorn and cranberry strings for the big tree, and then we ate the leftovers while we watched cartoons.”
“That sounds like a lot of fun,” I tell her.
“What about you, Daddy? Did you and Sela have fun?” she asks.
I pickThe Nutcrackerbook up from the nightstand and lie down on the bed beside her. “We did. We danced while Daniel and his friends played music.”
“Is she a good dancer?”
“Yep. Almost as good as me,” I tease.
She giggles.
I open the book.
She curls into my side and lays her head on my chest as I begin to read. She makes it halfway through the story before she loses the fight and falls fast asleep.
I click off the lamp, join her, and dream of mistletoe.
Isaac
Cobie and I awaken to a sweet aroma and find Hal in the kitchen, flipping thick slices of bread on a griddle.
“Good morning, early risers. Are you guys hungry?” he asks as Cobie hops up onto one of the barstools.
“I am! What are you making?” she asks.
“French toast and sausage links,” he answers.
“Yum.”
I ask Hal if it’d be all right for me to use the kitchen tonight to make a Swedish Christmas dessert for everyone, and he gives me his permission.
“Alice will be upset if you don’t incorporate gingerbread,” he warns.
“Not sure how to do that,” I admit.
He slaps me on the back as he slides a plate in front of me. “I’ve got you covered. I’ll whip up a batch of gingerbread eggnog to serve with your dessert.”
“I appreciate that.”
Cobie digs into her breakfast, eager to finish.
Once her plate is cleaned, she runs off to get dressed and find Lexie for our playdate in the snow.
I help Hal carry platters to the dining room for the other guests to enjoy when they wake while I wait for the girls.
He tells me where to find a set of sleds in the garage and loads a cardboard box with carrots and jelly beans for our snowman building.
Cobie and Lexie come barreling down the stairs, their excitement contagious as they pull on their boots, and we step out into the crisp winter morning.
We venture down the steps and across the yard, the deep snow crunching beneath our feet.
When we make it to the side of the inn, I ask, “All right, what do you guys want to do first?”
Laughter fills the air as they throw themselves backward into the fluffy snow, arms and legs moving in unison.
“Daddy, make snow angels with us,” Cobie exclaims, her eyes sparkling.
