The Claire Years

S E V E N T Y • O N E

               

I'm seventy one and I have to retire my Santa costume.

Dean figure out the whole shazam a couple years back and last year he was glaring at me the whole time, mumbling "that's grandpa, I'm not stupid."

Sam on the other hand was still a gullible little kid, so I thought I could still have my fun, but tonight while we were all sitting at the table for Christmas Eve, eating together, Dean started throwing a fit when we were telling Sam that Santa was going to come tonight and said, "Sammy, Santa's not real. It's just grandpa in a red suit!"

"Eloise, come on, do something with your Grinch," Eliah had exclaimed when we had all sort of went silent, and Sam's eyes had gotten super big because he was freaking out.

Dean didn't care. He narrowed his eyes at his uncle. "Stop trying to make Sam believe anything. Kids will make fun of him at school."

Eloise came to the rescue. "Dean, sweetheart, let your brother and your grandpa have their fun," our daughter said, because apparently the youngest member of the family wasn't the only one freaking out. I totally hadn't thought I would be ousted so obviously by Dean.

"But mooooooooom, you're all lying. You're not supposed to lie," Dean whines.

"Santa's not reaaaaaaal?" Sam drawled, freaking out.

"Oh boy..." Eliah got up, grabbing his husband's hand, "come on husband let's get out of here."

And from there it was kind of just panic, panic, PANIC.

Miraculously, Sam accepted the fact that he would have Christmas presents under the tree in the morning and we managed to put the two young boys to sleep.

So now we're all sitting in the living room drinking eggnog and watching the snow fall outside and the lights flicker on the Christmas tree. Eloise is sitting on the couch with her feet on her boyfriend's lap. Eliah's working on a jigsaw that we've put on a big cardboard. He's sitting on the plush carpet with his shoulder pressed against his husband's leg who is sitting on the recliner. And Claire and I are cuddling on the other couch, my arms around her, my cheek against her temple.

"I think if Dean keeps this up, he'll be an amazing dictator someday. Have you seen the way we're all just listening to him?" Eliah says, his eyes fixed on the puzzle.

"Sorry Dean sort of pooped on your fun, Dad," Eloise apologizes again.

I chuckle. "Don't worry, the apple didn't fall too far from the tree."

"That it did not," Dean's dad agrees.

"I'm kind of disappointed I won't get to play dress up though," I admit.

Everyone laughs.

"You should have grown a full on white beard, you know, fully commit to it while you could," Eliah jokes.

"I don't know, your father looks hot with a little gruff, but a full beard would hide that cute dimple there," Claire answers, pressing her thumb on my cheek.

"Careful mom, you're getting sickeningly sweet like Dad right now," Eloise says with a grimace.

Eliah rolls his eyes. "Please, no one can ever be as bad as Dad."

And then obviously everyone starts joking around for a while, making fun of their old man and then each other too. I laugh with them and wish each day would be like this.

            And then, one by one, they go to sleep too until it's just me and Claire left. She's actually fallen asleep in my arms, so I nudge her a little. "Claire, honey, you're going to have to get up. I can't carry you anymore," I admit. I'm not a young stud anymore.

Claire cracks her eyes open, yawns and smiles at me. "I never needed you to carry me, just to have you by my side."

I roll my eyes. "Ugh, the kids should have heard that one. They say I'm the cheesy one?"

Claire chuckles and I gather her up in my arms in a hug. Even if there is always a strong sense of familiarity with having Claire in my arms, I still feel a thrill going through my body when I do.

I've never stopped being crazy about this woman. I don't think I ever will. When she's in my arms, that's when I'm home.

I drop my arms from around her and slid my fingers through hers.

We go to bed, hand in hand.