Her smile is so bright it defies the definition of happiness.
Her little hands wave and clench only to wave again.
Her perfect little mouth pushes out the exclamation as her eyes widen.
She sits on his lap. She strokes his beard and leans against him with perfect and utter contentment.
When I ask, what did you and Santa talk about, she grows most serious.
Mom, you can’t tell what Santa talks about, it’s a secret.
She pulls me to a stop. Do you understand, Mom? Do you?
She lets go of my hand and skips ahead.