Decked out in their shirts from the Christmas card, the boys decorated their cookies for Santa as Sam - he of furrowed brow and kung-fu hands - rocked gently in his swing behind them. Closer inspection of the picture below may reveal that there is in fact cookie dough and a tray beneath the piles of candy sprinkles in front of Nate. 

Before we put it into the oven, we tipped his tray and almost filled a cereal bowl with sprinkle overflow. We hid this activity from Liam, as it could have easily resulted in all focus shifting from Santa’s cookies to that bowl of homeless sprinkles and their need to be lorded and obsessed over.

The boys left their cookies for Santa, and for reasons known only to him, Liam immediately demanded a second, empty plate for his own use. For reasons known to anyone but Liam, I denied this request based on my desire to get Santa (who was by then drumming his fingers impatiently on the DirecTV dish) going on toy assembly, and out of a sense of fatherly Nate-preservation (in the event that he strayed too closely to Liam’s proposed plate). 

This did not go over well, and Liam staged his protest off camera, near the tree. Nate dropped to the floor, scooted his legs under the cookie stool, and pointed happily at COOKEESTH! 

Sam, who may have not even realized that he was no longer in the kitchen, delivered one of his very first smiles. To a fake, half-decorated tree.

On Christmas morning, the boys discovered their stockings. Amidst all the chocolate and candy, Liam found a toothbrush-holder with a suction cup on the back. Our gift to him? Irony.

Nate wrangled their new Radio Flyer, and I took a moment to appreciate it all.

One day, Jill and I will be gone, and all that will remain of this unfolding morning will be an antique scooter and the distant memories of early childhood… dimly and warmly recalled by three old men: One hunkered over an empty plate, one pointing happily at cookies, and one smiling toothlessly at a tree.