The Forgotten Beast by Freya Victoria

Author:Freya Victoria [Victoria, Freya]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Enchantments & Fancies Publishing

That's Christmas to Me

The smell of Mom’s cinnamon rolls wakes me up. Someone has opened my door this morning to make sure I have as much of the delicious smell wafting in as possible.

The kids giggle outside my door. “You better run or Auntie Cal is going to get you!” Their little feet patter as they run barefoot down the hallway, giggling the whole way.

We always spend Christmas morning in our jammies, enjoying the company. The fire is burning in the fireplace and Mom or Dad stuffed the stockings and hung them along the mantle. With the family growing so much, their mantle had to be cleared of everything else to make room for so many stockings.

I make my way into the kitchen where someone has made coffee. I can smell some kind of Christmas spice in the air, probably cinnamon and nutmeg. Mom is pulling the cinnamon rolls out of the oven when I come in. I help her ice the top with cream cheese icing. “Morning, sweetie.” She licks icing off the tip of her finger.

“Morning, How’d you sleep? Did you sleep?” I ask. My mother is notorious for staying up late and making sure all the presents are laid out and ready for the rest of us in the morning.

“Stacy and Jen stayed up helping get the gifts ready for the kiddos. We weren’t up too much after you went to bed,” she replies. Judging from the large ring of gifts around the tree, I’d say her timeframe is an exaggeration.

While our family has never believed in spoiling us, my parents made sure we always had something under the tree on Christmas. If they had the money, we would have something to wear, something to read, and then something that we had been really wanting under the tree. Usually some extras there as well. Dad liked to visit the candy store before Christmas, saying, “The kids need to have a treat in their stocking for Christmas.” We all know he just went for himself, but none of us kids were going to say no to the yummy peppermint sticks and other Christmas treats he would bring home.

I help Mom dish cinnamon rolls onto disposable plates. We do not believe in doing all those dishes for the entire family on Christmas. “Kids, breakfast is ready,” I yell into the other room. They come running in, cheeks pink from being outside in the snow.

“Do your mommas know you guys were outside in your jammies?” Mom asks. All the kids look at her, their eyes as big as saucers. Two of them grab her hands and beg her not to tell on them.

“Grab your breakfast and sit at the table. You know Grandma won’t tell on you.” I laugh. When they all vacate the kitchen, I grab a couple of plates and move them to the adult table. I have yet to see any adults except Mom this morning, but I know they’ll be in soon. The call of breakfast is a universal sign it’s about to get crazy up in here.

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