Chapter Text
The living room was glittering with early December ambition-half-strung lights, a tree that leaned ever so slightly to the left, and a trail of pine needles that Faith had dramatically declared were “Christmas fairy footprints.”
Grace was untangling garland with the focus of someone defusing a bomb. Maura was adjusting a velvet bow on the wreath. Jane was already regretting everything.
And Faith?
Faith was writing her letter to Santa.
Lying on her belly with her feet in the air, she scribbled with a red gel pen, her tongue peeking out in concentration.
“Is that your first draft or final?” Jane asked as she passed with a box of ornaments.
“Second,” Faith replied seriously. “The first one was too short. This one has more reasoning.”
Jane exchanged a look with Maura. “Reasoning?”
“She’s lobbying,” Grace said dryly. “It’s getting intense.”
Maura moved to the fireplace and picked up the first letter-crumpled but legible. “This says, and I quote, ‘I have been good enough for a baby sibling. I did not even scream when Mama stepped on my Lego and said a word I was not supposed to hear.’”
“It was a very sharp Lego,” Faith added without looking up.
“Still not a valid reason to get a baby,” Jane muttered.
Faith kept writing.
Grace whispered to Jane, “She asked Santa and the Elf on the Shelf. And she told Ms. Lewis during music class that she’s getting a baby sister by Christmas.”
Jane groaned. “We’re going to get a call from the school again.”
“We already did,” Maura said. “She offered to start saving her allowance for ‘sibling supplies.’”
Jane dropped onto the couch. “Okay, but this is getting out of hand.”
“It’s been out of hand since she asked for one instead of a Hatchimal,” Grace replied.
Faith stood up suddenly and marched over to the fireplace, placing her letter in front of Maura with a hopeful expression. “I added illustrations.”
Maura turned the page. There were stick figures-her, Jane, Grace, Faith… and a swaddled bundle with rays of light drawn around it like a holy baby emoji.
“Sweetheart…” Maura started.
“If I can’t have one by Christmas, you could just start the process now,” Faith offered, all innocence.
Jane put a pillow over her face.