As hard as it is to pull myself away from Rosie, I gather enough self-control to rise from bed and pull on jeans and a sweater that Rosie tells me brings out my blue eyes. Sitting up in bed now, Rosie has the blanket pressed up to her chest and is giving me a doleful look.

“Come on, Rosie, you promised me Christmas morning. I think I fullfilled my end of the bargain pretty well,” I give Rosie a wink.

She throws a pillow at me. I laugh and tackle her, tickling her without mercy so that she becomes hopelessly tangled in the blankets. When we are smiling and breathless I get up and walk to the door to give her a moment to herself.

“Better hurry, you’ll miss the present-opening. And you’ve got to try my dad’s hot chocolate. Nothing beats it.” With that I leave the room, hoping Rosie will get dressed quickly.

Downstairs, I am greeted with the kind of cheer that only Christmas brings as a swarm of relatives and tiny cousins call my name. Across the room, Mother is giving me an incomprehensible look.