Just a Little Holiday Moment
I walked in, hung up my coat, kicked off my shoes.
I came around the corner, peeling out of my clothes to hang them up in the closet and stopped mid-tug on the hem of my sweater.
Lying curled up with his brother, Julien slept peacefully, one small hand curled up in a light fist near his face. His face was relaxed in sleep, eyelashes impossibly long against the pale skin of his cheeks.
Perched atop his head, resplendant in red, white and glitter: my brother's old Santa hat from days of yore. It still reads proudly: "Edward" across the front.
And yet clearly, Julien adopted it with great fondness, since he fell asleep with it still on and as I write, sleeps on with it slanting cockeyed across his forehead.
Merry Christmas, little guy.
You're the cutest darned mini-Santa ever.
I came around the corner, peeling out of my clothes to hang them up in the closet and stopped mid-tug on the hem of my sweater.
Lying curled up with his brother, Julien slept peacefully, one small hand curled up in a light fist near his face. His face was relaxed in sleep, eyelashes impossibly long against the pale skin of his cheeks.
Perched atop his head, resplendant in red, white and glitter: my brother's old Santa hat from days of yore. It still reads proudly: "Edward" across the front.
And yet clearly, Julien adopted it with great fondness, since he fell asleep with it still on and as I write, sleeps on with it slanting cockeyed across his forehead.
Merry Christmas, little guy.
You're the cutest darned mini-Santa ever.