A/N: All right, I FINALLY found the name of Callie's therapist; therefore, I can continue/wrap up Normal Fosters. As an aside, I came up with the idea for this quick, seasonal series. Each chapter will be a year of Christmas days in the Foster/Adams/Elkin Stef's maiden name and Mike's can't be the same. Somewhere, I discovered Sharon's last name was Elkin. Frank's last name may not be Elkin, but it's either not Foster or Mike's isn't Foster household.

2000

Setting:

Mike and Stef Foster are married, living together in a townhouse. Mike is a deputy of the SDPD. Stef is a stay at home mother. Brandon is three years old. Mike's parents aren't in the picture, but Stef's, Frank and Sharon divorced are.

Lena is finishing her final semester of grad school at UCLA. She is also employed with the Los Angeles Unified School District at John Burroughs. Lena is hired half-time counselor and half-time sixth grade coach. That was JB's definition of teaching social studies and English, if she was lucky. Lena's first (and hopefully last) year of teaching for LA County exposed her to a completely different world than she'd experienced.

"He came," shrieked Brandon. Stef smiled and leaned into Mike for the few seconds they'd have in bed before their three year old ripped through the door. "Daddy," the bed sagged as Brandon jumped beside Mike, "come on. Mom," he pulled the blanket back, "hurry. I just knew it." With that Brandon ran from the room.

Mike nudged Stef, "come on. Apparently we had a visitor last night." He rolled from the bed, pulling some gray sweat pants on. "What's going on, buddy?" Mike yelled down the steps.

"God, it's 5:20," Stef groaned. She picked up the robe from the bottom of the bed and followed Mike downstairs. There were crumbs all over the living room carpet, but it was the one day out of the year Stef could only smile at the mess. Graciously accepting the coffee she'd programmed to brew the night before, Stef bent down beside Brandon, "wow, B. Your friend sure can make a mess." She laughed at Mike as he picked the last half of cookie from the plate.

Ignoring both his mother and father, Brandon had emptied his stocking all over the floor. He quickly unwrapped a foil covered chocolate Santa. After one bite, he tossed it aside picking up a light up yo yo, "oh my-" his excitement was interrupted with the changing colors. When the toy was unstrung, it too was discarded. "Bubble," Brandon's face flushed from the joy. "He got it all right. Everything on my list," he shook his head amazed.

Mike carefully stepped over Brandon's stocking in between the couch and tree. "What's this?" He asked innocently.

"I don't know," Stef peered. "Brandon," she nudged her son, "hey, what's Daddy have over there?"

"Not sure-" Brandon barely glanced at Mike before opening a box of markers. Doing a double take, he almost jumped across the table. Looking up at Mike then back at Stef, Brandon fell to his knees. "Daddy," he almost whispered throwing his arms around the handlebars of his new bike.

Mike out his coffee on the side table as he knelt beside Brandon, "black and red, just like you wanted. Even has black and red streamers," he ran his hand through the plastic attached to the handlebars. "Pretty nice, B," Mike messed up his son's all ready unruly hair.

"All right, boys," Stef had retrieved the camera from the kitchen. "We need to take a picture for Santa. Just like Grandma, he likes to see kids opening their presents," she smiled snapping a picture. "You think we can get through all the stocking stuff and see what Daddy and I bought?" Stef questioned Brandon, kicking some candy to the side. He was unfazed, though, his entire focus on the bike. Stef was glad he liked it. "Good job, Daddy," she squeezed Mike's shoulder. They'd saved for three months after seeing Brandon's letter to Santa.

Meanwhile…(and about seven hours later)

"Look who finally graced us with her presence," Dana set the casserole on the table.

Lena smiled at her mom, "thanks mom," she kissed her father on the cheek. "Thanks for letting me take that bath. I didn't realize how tired and tense I was," she sat at the table.

"You need to make it up here more often," Stewart answered his daughter. "Or you could transfer to a school in the city," he referenced San Francisco. "I'm sure UCLA has plenty of correspondent schools."

Groaning, Lena began to argue, "Dad-."

"Oh Stewart, what fun would that be. You know our daughter has a propensity for metal detectors and pepper spray," Dana rubbed her daughter's back. She kissed the top of Lena's head before grabbing a bottle of wine from the kitchen counter, "we kid, dear. Your father and I are just glad you're home for a few days."

Lena took a drink of her water before smiling warily at her parents, "I'm glad to be here." Dipping her father then mother a serving of casserole, Lena spooned some on her own plate, "this is one thing I do miss," she took some spinach salad before passing it to Dana, "fresh produce."

"I thought there was some initiative to make fresh vegetables and fruits available to the more urban area," Dana commented handing Lena the fruit salad.

"Urban and most of the LAUSD are two different worlds, mom," Lena stated matter of factly.
Even at Pepperdine, I didn't understand how lucky I am." She shook her head, "I was lucky you two value education like you do."

Stewart chewed his salad, "I give most of the credit to your mom. Before I met Dana, I was just a ranch hand with barely two dimes to rub together."

Dana rolled her eyes, "right, Stewart." Lena's father had come from humble beginnings but, he put himself through college and met Dana as a graduate student at UC Berkley. "We both worked hard, but seized the opportunities we were afforded. Those certificates didn't win themselves," she nodded at Stewart's outstanding teaching awards. He'd taught for the past seven years after retiring from as a civil engineer with Boeing.

"We're proud of you, honey," Stewart acknowledged Dana's compliment by covering her hand with his. "Even though we wish you'd make it back a little more often," he shrugged. The room was quiet as the Adam's enjoyed their meal. "Ah, Lena," Stewart looked at his daughter, "I thought you were bringing," he paused thinking, "Gretchen with you."

"Stewart," Dana cleared her throat, "I told you she wasn't able to join us this year."

Stewart looked from Dana to Lena and back again. Almost as if he were remembering the unspoken conversation, he quickly took a drink, "oh, of course-."

"It's fine, Dad," Lena's voice showed a small amount of tension. "We're on a break," she shrugged, taking a deep breath.

Stewart put his hand on Lena's arm in support, "oh Lena, I'm sorry." He put his fork down, "you two had been seeing each other since you started at UCLA, right?"

Lena clenched her jaw, "yeah, eighteen months." She moved some food around on her plate, "what's two years, huh?" She nervously laughed.

"What's the name of the girl you've been out with the past month or so?" Dana asked, clearly trying to change the subject. She'd spent many hours on the phone with a crying, then angry, followed by distant Lena. Getting the familiar glare from her daughter, Dana suddenly found the final pieces of spinach fascinating.

"Me," Stewart interjected, "I'm glad you dumped her. She always did seem so flighty."

Lena shook her head before bursting out in laughter. "Flighty, fabulous Gretchen," she gasped for breath. "Oh Daddy," Lena dabbed at the corner of her eyes, "I love you guys. You're the greatest." Finally, the three Adam's were able to stop laughing, "Gretchen is in South Africa with President Carter. She's spending the holiday working with his foundation," Lena shrugged, "a few weeks doing humanitarianism, six months in the Caribbean. It all equals out in Gretchen's world."

"Lena," Dana stood, taking the plates, "Gretchen has different priorities than you." She was met with another snort from her daughter, "just because it's different doesn't mean it's bad. Just different." Lena followed her mother into the kitchen with empty plates and bowls. "Honey, I'm sorry," Dana whispered, "I told your father."

Lena set the dishes in the sink. She put her hand on her mother's arm, "it's OK, Mom." She poured another glass of wine, "really. I'm moving on. Gretchen and I are just different." Lena shrugged, "plus, I'm with my family at Christmas. No negative thoughts today."

Meanwhile…

"Brandon, we have to eat all of our green beans if we want to have the energy to show Grandaddy how fast our bike will go," Stef instructed her son. Brandon dug at the beans a few moments before putting three in his mouth. The rest, he stuck underneath his turkey. Stef shook her head. "Mom," she hissed as Sharon laughed at her grandson. "B, Santa's keepin' that list," she looked sideways at her son.

Brandon laughed, "Mom," he giggled, "he's sleeping. Like Daddy, he's tired."

Mike laughed, "I like your logic, Son." He got up from the table and walked into the kitchen, "Frank, can I get you another one?"

"I'm good, Mike," Frank called tipping his bottle. "I've gotta make sure the lady gets home this evening." He looked over at Sharon who rolled her eyes. "Plus, I have to be at work in the morning. Early bird shift," he explained. Frank had about eight more years on the force until he could retire. When Stef married Mike, he wasn't surprised, but he'd always hoped his daughter would at least marry a detective.

Sharon smacked her ex-husband on the shoulder, "I think I can find my way home. It's not New Years, it's Christmas. Not exactly oozing danger."

"You'd be surprised," Mike sat back down. "Captain was telling us Christmas is one of the top 10 most dangerous days of the year." He shrugged, "DUI's double. Of course, it's probably all the father's who spend hours trying to put those toys the in laws buy the kids together."

Stef rolled her eyes, "good thing Mom and Dad came over here. I'm pretty sure you could qualify." The table fell quiet. "All right, B. You only have two left," she cheered Brandon on. He quickly grabbed the last two beans, "yay!" Stef looked at Frank, "you ready, Grandad?"

"Of course, I'm ready," Frank stood back from the table. "I hope you've practiced, buddy. We don't need any skinned knees or broken noses," he picked up Brandon's helmet. Sharon had bought it for him after Stef reveled Santa's surprise. "Safey first," Frank rolled his eyes and finished his beer. All that protective gear seemed like overkill to him. He'd grown up and managed to live long enough without helmets or seatbelts. Taking Brandon's hand, Frank invited Mike, "let's leave the pie to the ladies."

Mike grabbed the handlebars and followed Brandon and Frank to the courtyard, "yell when you're ready, babe."

"God," Stef sighed at the shut door. She started to clear the plates and leftovers. Setting the dishes into the sink a little too hard, Stef started running water, rinsing the plates. She jumped as Sharon came behind her with the turkey, "whoa."

Sharon set the turkey on the topof the stove, "OK, spill."

Stef looked over her shoulder. Sharon was carving the turkey from the bones. She turned back to her dishes, "sometimes he is just," she paused shaking her head. "I don't know," Stef trailed off.

A few moments passed as Stef loaded the dishwasher and Sharon put turkey in baggies. "Are you guys talking about any more kids?" Sharon asked. She was surprised at Stef's laugh, "what?"

"I can't imagine we'd be able to not fight long enough to even discuss it," Stef admitted. "That and actually sleep together," she added.

Sharon smiled to herself. Stef never had a problem sharing. She wasn't a closed book, that was for sure. That trait was both a virtue and a vice. Sometimes Stef could overshare a little bit. "Honey, everyone hits a dry spot," Sharon began. "Mike's a good guy. He has a good job, is a good dad-"

"I'll give you a good dad," Stef admitted. "It's not all Mike," she sighed wiping her hands on a dish towel. "I don't know," she trailed off. Sharon didn't know how much Mike drank. He did provide for she and Brandon but Stef was beginning to wonder at what cost. More than she cared to admit, Mike had called her in the middle of the night to pick him up at a bar. The job was stressful, Stef had seen the toll it took on her dad and her parent's marriage.

Sharon put the bags of turkey in the refrigerator. Turning to Stef, she gave her daughter a hug, "I don't know either, hun. All I can tell you is follow your heart. It'll all work out." She stepped back from Stef, looking her over, "now, I have a grandson I'm dying to watch do tricks on that new bike."

"Don't get too excited," Stef put down the dishtowel, "he can go in a straight line. Mike stood at one end of the sidewalk, I stood on the other. He'd pedal between us and we lifted him, bike and all, turned him around and set him on his way." She followed Sharon through the dining room, "I have to admit, Christmas with a toddler is pretty great." Stef shut the lights off as they went outside. She put her arm around Sharon's waist, "it's been fun watching Brandon, too." Stef paused as Sharon got the joke. The two laughed as they made their way across to the boys.