Maybe a little of both present giving and sharing love is the right balance, Peter:
The children doubted if they would be able to sleep that night. But Dell and Emmelisa did fall asleep and they both had the same dream. The dream began in pitch black, as a young boy and his young sister were fast asleep on Christmas Eve. Everything was quiet and the sky outside was crystal clear. The black sky slowly revealed a multitude of twinkling stars. Although the light from the stars reduced the darkness, the small community below the starry sky was fast asleep and unaware that the shapes of their homes were slowly becoming more distinct in the starlit sky.
As the night wore on, thick clouds drifted across the sky and the stars disappeared completely, but instead of the total blackness returning, the buildings remained visible under the cloud filled sky because the clouds were full of frozen vapour. It was as though a brilliant white quilt had been pulled across the sky: a whiteness that fought against the darkness and reflected a soft, grey shadowy light onto the sleeping community.
Early Christmas morning, this unusual light that shone through the window had awakened the little girl.
“It’s morning,” she thought as she slid from under the duvet and tiptoed across her room to the window.
She pulled back the curtains and looked out onto a Christmas card scene.
During the night, the clouds had emptied all the frozen vapour that had fallen as soft, white crystals and clothed the earth in a blanket of snow. The thick layers of snow on the rooftops reminded the little girl of sugar frosting on the tops of cakes. The branches of the trees bowed under the weight of the snow and not a blade of grass was visible. The air was still, the sky was dark blue and the earth was white.
The small girl knelt upon the built-in seat under the window and looked out onto the perfect scenery of unmarked snow. She heard the door to her bedroom open gently as her brother entered the room. He didn’t make a sound as he crossed the room and knelt beside his sister.
“Oh!” he exclaimed in a hushed voice. “Look at the snow. It’s beautiful.”
“I thought it was morning,” the girl said.
“It is,” her brother replied, “but it’s very early. Too early to wake Mummy and Daddy.”
“Do you think Father Christmas will have filled our stockings? I can’t see any sleigh marks on the rooftops and there are no footsteps in the snow.”
“It will soon be seven o’clock in the morning. If we go back to bed for a bit longer it will be nearly time to get up.”
“Okay,” the little girl agreed, “but I won’t sleep.”
“Neither will I,” her brother whispered, as he crept back to his bedroom.
Not long after seven o’clock, the two children opened the door to their parents’ bedroom without making a sound.
“Are you awake, Mummy?” the little girl asked.
Her mother opened her eyes and said, “Is it morning already?” as she squinted in the dimly lit bedroom. She looked towards the window and saw light shining through the curtains. She glanced at the bedside clock and thought that it was too early to be light outside on Christmas Day. She wondered if the clock had stopped.
“Come and look through the window,” the little girl invited her mother as her father rolled over in bed and opened his eyes.
“Oh,” he murmured, then closed his eyes again.
“Please, Mummy, come and look,” the little girl repeated.
She slowly got out of bed, as her daughter took her hand and guided her to the window. When the curtains were drawn back, the glistening, brilliant white snow reflected light into the room.
“Oh, a white Christmas!” she exclaimed, with all the joy and wonder of a small child. She bent and lightly kissed the tops of the heads of her two small children.
“Happy Christmas,” she said.
The noise had woken their father, who climbed out of bed and joined his small family, as they gazed out on the snow-capped landscape.
“Happy Christmas,” he said, stifling a yawn as he picked up his daughter.
“Happy Christmas to you.”
“Happy Christmas,” his small son said as he wrapped his arms around his father’s waist and gave him a hug.
“Did you hear Father Christmas?” his daughter asked.
“No, do you think he forgot about you? Or maybe he lost his way in the snow,” he replied as he looked through the window, “I don’t see any sleigh tracks.”
As he spoke, a few lights lit up bedroom windows in neighbouring homes: it was Christmas Day and the community was waking up.
“Can we go downstairs?” the children asked, as their excitement rose.
Their parents had hardly agreed to this request before the children raced each other out of the room.
They stopped running when they reached the landing.
“Quietly,” the small boy suggested, fearful that Father Christmas might still be unloading their presents and they would stumble upon him and frighten him away.
Stealthily, they descended the stairs and crossed the hallway. Through the open living room doorway, they could see the Christmas tree—it was surrounded by presents.
The children were brimming with merriment as they ran back up stairs and whooped to their parents, “Mummy, Daddy, come and look. Father Christmas has left our presents under the tree.”
The two parents had donned their dressing gowns by the time their children re-entered the bedroom. The children were still wearing their pyjamas.
“Put on your dressing gowns,” their mother ordered but the children were too excited, as they ran out of their parents’ bedroom and tumbled down the stairs.
As soon as their parents appeared in the hallway, they called out, “Can we open the presents?”
“After breakfast,” their father replied.
“Now, please. Please…please…please?”
Their parents caved in under the pressure of their exuberant children.
The house was centrally heated but the fireplace still had a working chimney and, every Christmas, a real fire burned brightly in the hearth.
“I’ll light the fire,” the children’s father said, “and then you can open the presents.”
After the fire was lit and gently smouldering, the family were about to gather around the tree.
“Should we take down our stockings, first?” the little girl asked because she’d noticed the two stockings hanging from the mantlepiece as her father dealt with the lighting of the fire. The stockings were no longer long, flat and empty: they were long, fat and full.
The legs of the stockings were bulging with small toys and the feet of the stockings were crammed with tangerines, nuts, sweets, chocolates, dates and crystallised fruit.
The little girl was so pleased with one of her small toys, a baby
doll, that she was in no hurry to open the presents under the Christmas tree.
Her brother was just as fascinated by one of his small presents—a rocket set with its battery-operated launch pad.
“Why don’t we have breakfast before we open the presents under the tree?” their mother asked, and the children agreed as they followed their parents to the kitchen.
During breakfast, the children’s mother suggested a toast, and they all raised their glasses of fruit juice and chorused, “To Father Christmas!”
After breakfast, they returned to the living room, where they were met by a bright, flickering fire that gave the room a warm glow.
The children ran to the tree and picked out the presents they’d wrapped for their parents.
“Open these,” they said, with sparkling eyes.
Their mother carefully removed the sealing tape and smiled in surprise as a beautiful, pale blue lamb’s wool scarf fell from its wrapping.
“Thank you,” she said, “this is gorgeous.”
Their father felt his soft present and said, “Socks! I’ll bet!”
The children giggled, as he pulled out a long, blue woollen scarf.
“It’s perfect,” he said. “Thank you, I’ll wear it today.”
By the time all the presents had been unwrapped, the room looked like a department store during the January sales. The floor was covered with toys, boxes, wrapping paper, ribbon and sticky tape.
The children couldn’t decide what to do next because there were so many toys and games, but their mother insisted on tiding away all the gift wrapping first.
When the room was cleared of all the wrapping paper, the little girl grabbed everyone’s attention,
“Look!” she exclaimed as she pointed under the tree—one small present remained unopened.
“It’s for Cosmos.”
The small gift was for the family cat. He strolled into the room as soon as he heard his name. He spotted the small package and walked around it as though he were stalking a mouse. He sprawled on the carpet and stretched out one of his front legs and softly pawed the small present.
“He’s going to open it!” the little girl squealed, as the family pet flipped the present over and played a game of catch and chase. He released the present, prowled around it, pounced on it, threw it in the air, released it again and then repeated the whole process.
Everyone laughed. They left him playing with the wrapped present, because he seemed to be having so much fun.
“Upstairs,” the children’s mother ordered them to get dressed.
For the rest of the morning, they played together happily with their newly acquired toys while their mother prepared Christmas dinner and their father drove through the snow to collect his parents, who were coming to join in the celebrations.
The wintry roads slowed down the journey and by the time the children’s grandparents finally arrived, the Christmas dinner was ready to be served.
“Happy Christmas, Grandma. Happy Christmas, Granddad,” the two children greeted their grandparents.
“Look what Father Christmas brought,” their small granddaughter said.
“Wash your hands, dinner’s ready,” her mother interrupted. “You can show
Grandma your presents after dinner.”
Christmas dinner was a splendid feast. They had roast turkey with sage and onion stuffing and a smooth, savoury gravy; roast and boiled new potatoes; buttered vegetables: peas, green beans and carrots.
Before pudding, they pulled their Christmas crackers and put on their paper hats. A joke in one of the crackers read: “What do you get when you cross a soldier’s outfit with a number?”
Although the answer was “kitten,” everyone called out “Cosmos” and burst out laughing.
Then they filled themselves with brandy soaked Christmas pudding and white sauce.
The children’s grandparents fell asleep in the fireside chairs after such a sumptuous meal.
“Shall we go outside?” the children’s father asked when all the washing up was finished.
“Yes, please!” the children replied, enthusiastically.
“You’ll need to wrap up warmly,” their mother advised.
The children put on their wellington boots and warm overcoats, wrapped scarves around their necks and wore woollen hats and mittens.
Their father was similarly clad and was proudly wearing his blue, woollen scarf.
Outside, the air was crisp, the sky was blue and the white snow glistened in the winter sunshine. The children danced and kicked the snow on the driveway to their home, as their father collected the children’s toboggan from the garage.
He put the toboggan into the back of the four-by-four, while the children climbed inside.
The journey to the nearest hill with a lengthy slope was short but took longer than usual because of the deep snow covering the uncleared roads.
By the time they arrived at Longside Hill, several families were enjoying themselves pulling sleds up the long slope and then hurtling down the bumpy hillside.
The two children had a great time in the powdery snow that brushed off their clothing easily whenever they fell off their toboggan. They rolled over on the ground that was cushioned by thick layers of soft snow.
They threw lightweight snowballs at each other and laughed and laughed and laughed. They had a wonderful time and they wanted the day to last forever.
However, by mid afternoon the light started to fail and dusk was not far away. The children were in no hurry to leave, but by the time they finally agreed to return home, the temperature was dropping rapidly. The snow was crisper: like a fine, dry powder as the sun started to set and the frosty air chilled the surface of the snow.
They piled into the car and stole one last glance at the frozen snow before they drove off. The setting sun had turned the turquoise sky a brilliant streak of orange, yellow and red on the horizon. The filtered light from the red component of sunlight reflected onto the snow and turned it pink. It was the perfect end to a perfect day.
They arrived home just in time for tea. The children’s mother and grandmother had set the table for afternoon tea. It was laden with turkey sandwiches, trifle, Christmas cake and warm mince pies with a full jug of fresh cream.
After tea, the whole family felt happy and contented. They sat in front of the roaring fire and played one of the board games that Father Christmas had left under the Christmas tree.
When it was time for the children to go to bed, they were almost falling asleep.
By the time their father returned, after driving his parents to their home, the children were already tucked up in bed.
“I’ll check on the children and say goodnight,” he said to his wife as he entered the house.
He quietly climbed the stairs and stepped lightly across the landing. The children were fast asleep. He kissed his small daughter lightly on the cheek as she slumbered without stirring.
As he kissed his son, he awoke for a few seconds and said, “Thanks, Dad, thanks for a brilliant day,” before he fell back into a deep sleep.
His father tiptoed to the doorway and turned towards the sleeping boy. “That’s okay, son,” he whispered, “My son, my son.”
Chapter Sixteen "If Dreams Came True"
Mr. Planemaker's Flying Machine 
2005 by Shelagh Watkins.
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