Snapshot in Crayon

A Wee!Chester Christmas Tale

By: Vanessa Sgroi

Snapshot in Crayon

A dad and mom.

A little boy and

an unborn brother.

Happy stick figure family.

In front of a sparkling tree.

An artful rendering this.

Crinkling in an errant breeze.

The paper rain-trampled,

tattered and slightly yellowed.

Clinging forlornly to a

dull and droopy fence.

Its fanciful crayoned snapshot

frozen in time.

--Vanessa Sgroi, 2007

John and Mary Winchester sat in the living room of their small house in Lawrence, Kansas, watching their three-year-old son, Dean, with delight. It was a snowy Christmas morning, and Dean was full of wide-eyed toddler wonder at the bounty Santa had left under the twinkling Christmas tree.

"Mommy! Mommy, look! Santa Claus came last night! He . . . he ate the cookies you left an' everthing."

Mary motioned the little mop-headed boy over to where she sat on the couch. He climbed up next to her, and she gave him a big hug and a smooch on his cheek. "He sure did, honey! It looks like Santa Claus was very busy last night. I bet he and his reindeer are tired today, huh? I bet they're snoring right now!"

The little boy laughed.

"Are you ready to open your presents?"

Dean slid off the couch and jumped up and down, nodding vigorously. Ironically, at that moment, the baby decided to kick energetically, and Mary rubbed soothing hands over her pregnant belly. "Looks like the baby is excited too."

John ran a quick hand over his beard-scruffed face, holding back a yawn and said, "Lemme just get another cup of coffee, then I'll hand 'em out, okay?"

"Daaaddy, hurry! Hurry up!"

"I will, kiddo. I will."

Ten minutes later, John returned with a steaming mug of black coffee for him and a mug of hot chocolate for his beautiful blonde wife. He handed it to her with a smile, before giving her extended belly a caress. Mary gave him a quick kiss, breathing a sigh of relief at her husband's return, since occupying an almost 4-year-old for any length of time on Christmas morning to keep him from diving into the gifts was nearly impossible.

John sat crossed-legged on the floor near the tree. He picked up the first package and handed it to his son, who tore into it with great enthusiasm. His gasp of sheer delight when a toy fire truck was revealed beneath the reindeer-dotted paper brought huge grins to his parents' faces.

While Dean was momentarily occupied, John handed his wife one of her gifts, watching intently as she opened it. It was Mary's turn to gasp in sheer delight when she saw the dainty silver necklace nestled inside the box. She blew her husband a kiss. Mary gently took the necklace out of the box and fastened it in to place.

The oldest Winchester pulled out another merrily decorated package and started to hand it to Dean.

"No, Daddy! Wait! You open one first!" Dean grabbed a haphazardly wrapped gift and shoved it into John's hands. "Open THIS one!"

John tore off the wrinkled, scrunched, and copiously taped paper to reveal a Snap-On Tools calendar.

"Do ya like it, Daddy? Do ya? Mommy helped me pick it out!"

His father grinned and reached out to ruffle his blondish mop. "Of course I do, kiddo. It's great!"

Dean reached under the Christmas tree and extracted another messily wrapped present and walked it over to his mother. "Now Mommy has to open this one."

Mary hurriedly pulled away the pretty, if wrinkled, red-and-gold paper. A soft, fuzzy ice blue scarf lay beneath the wrapping. She quickly pulled it out and coiled it around her neck. "It's beautiful, Dean! Thank you, sweetie." She kissed him on his cheek.

"Daddy said you'd like it!"

The next few minutes were spent with each Winchester taking a turn opening a gift. Finally, every package under the tree was opened, and used Christmas paper was a mini-mountain in the middle of the living room.

Little Dean was ecstatic over the additions of a toy tool belt with all the accessories, crayons and coloring books, a ball, and a Hot Wheels car—a perfect miniature replica of John's 1967 Impala. He brought the revered little car over to his mom and placed it on her rounded belly.

Mary laughed. "Dean, what are you doing?"

"I'm giving Baby Sammy a little present."

"Baby Sammy? But we don't know yet if it's a boy or a girl. It could be Baby Sarah."

"Uh uh. It's a boy like me. It's Baby Sammy."

"And just how do you know that?"

Dean shrugged his little shoulders. "I dunno. I just know. And I get to be his big brother."

"Well, I think Baby Sammy is a little too young yet for toys." She handed the miniature Impala back to her son. "He, or she, needs to be born first."

"Oh. So Sammy has to be borned before he'll like toys?"

Mary hugged him hard. "Yeah, something like that, sweetie. Now how about I go make us all a special Christmas breakfast!"

"Yeah! Choc-lit chip pancakes? Not booberry, right?"

Mary's eyes twinkled. "You bet. Chocolate chip pancakes with whipped cream. And sausage. Sound good?"

"Uh huh." Her son nodded happily.

She pushed herself to the edge of the couch and stood. "You stay here and play with your new toys. Daddy's gonna clean up this mess and then come help me in the kitchen."

It was a little while later when John came back into the living room and saw his son sitting at the coffee table, tongue between his teeth as he scribbled away with his new crayons on a piece of paper. "Hey, kiddo, mom almost has breakfast ready. What are you doin'?"

"I'm drawing a picture with my new crans."

"Oh, yeah? What are you drawing a picture of?"

"You and mommy." Dean finished what he was doing and brought the picture over to his father.

John studied the crayon drawing. It depicted a rough representation of their living room, sparkling Christmas tree and all. "So there's me and mommy. This must be you. And what's this right here?" John pointed at a funny squiggly circle drawn around "Mary's" belly.

"That's Baby Sammy, silly." Dean giggled.

"Oh, I see. Well, we sure look like a happy family, don't we?"

"Uh huh. But I just wish Sammy would hurry and get borned."

"Why is that, kiddo?"

"So I can give him presents. Mommy says he can't have presents until he's borned."

"Oh, I see. Well, it will happen soon enough, I promise. In fact, by next Christmas he'll be here and you'll BOTH be getting presents from Santa."

Little Dean sighed. "Oookay. But that sure is a long time to wait."

"Listen, why don't we go show Mommy this picture and then hang it on the refrigerator door? And then we'll have some of your mommy's special breakfast." John lifted his son into his arms.

"Okay. Daddy?"

"Yes, Dean?"

"Do you think Santa liked his cookies and milk?"

John thought back to the two homemade chocolate chip cookies Mary had set out before putting Dean to bed. He'd eaten them before he and Mary had turned in for the night. "I know he did, kiddo. I know he did."

"Good! 'Cause Mommy makes the best cookies ever! And she'd be sad if Santa didn't like them."

(SN) (SN) The End (SN) (SN)