So, Happy New Year! In celebration, I give you... another Christmas story. Yeah, obviously this was supposed to be done a week ago, but hey, better late than never, right?
Disclaimer: Nope, I still don't own the characters. (But I do own Seasons 1 and 2 on DVD and they hurricane rock!) They belong, as ever, to Disney.
It was Christmas Eve—no, Christmas morning now, Kim Stoppable realized as she glanced over at the alarm clock. And she couldn't sleep.
It was partly the excitement of Christmas; even as an adult she couldn't seem to shake that infectious sense of anticipation the holiday always brought.
It was also partly the unfamiliar bed; though their own house was only a few blocks away, it had become a tradition for Kim and Ron to spend the night at her parents' home on Christmas Eve.
But mostly it was the same thing that had kept her up late almost every night for the last week: the baby restlessly kicking away inside of her as if to say, "Let me out of here already!"
Kim would have been more than happy to comply with the demand, but however she and the baby felt about the matter, her doctor insisted that they still had another two weeks to wait.
As the baby gave another insistent jab to her ribs, Kim sat up in bed and sighed, rubbing her swollen belly. "I'm anxious to see you, too," she whispered, "but you and I both need to learn some patience."
A flurry of tiny kicks told her that wasn't going to happen any time soon. She sighed again and looked over at Ron. He was fast asleep—and she couldn't blame him. He'd stayed up late with her for the last few days, waiting for the baby to settle down so that she could get to sleep. And she knew that if she woke him up right now, he'd do it again, and smile all the while for her. But instead she leaned over and placed a soft kiss on his forehead, then slid out of bed and padded on sock-clad feet out into the hallway.
Kim took the stairs slowly and softly, not wishing to disturb anyone else. But just as she reached the bottom step, a rustling sound from the far side of the living room put her instantly on the alert. Her eyes shot up and quickly spotted the unmistakable shape of another person silhouetted against the colorful glow of the Christmas tree. She instinctively fell into a defensive back stance, almost overbalancing thanks to her unwieldy condition but quickly correcting and holding her hands up, ready to defend herself and even strike back should the intruder choose to attack.
"Who's there?" she called out.
The dark figure startled and turned to face her. "Kimmiecub?"
"Dad?" Kim let the word whoosh out of her in a relieved sigh as she dropped her hands. She took a few deliberate, deep breaths and willed her heart to slow, then stepped towards him. "What are you doing up?" she asked.
James Possible offered his daughter a sheepish smile as he lifted a small plate and glass from the mantle. "I just realized that 'Santa' forgot to eat his cookies," he said. "Care to help me?"
Kim chuckled. "Sure," she said, allowing him to steer her towards the kitchen.
Kim sat down in the breakfast nook, and James set the cookies and milk down on the table while he went to fill a second glass.
She picked up one of the chocolate chip cookies and stared at it. "Why do we even still put out cookies for Santa?" she asked as James slid into the seat next to her. "I mean, the Tweebs haven't believed in Santa for years and years now."
"I'm pretty sure they stopped believing before you did, Kimmiecub," James said with a little smirk.
"Only because they calculated the impossibility of anyone being able to deliver presents to all of the kids in the world in one night when they were, what—four?" Kim countered as she took a bite of her cookie. "But you haven't answered my question."
"Oh, come on," James said, picking one up for himself. "It's tradition. You'd be disappointed if we didn't still leave cookies out for Santa."
Kim smiled wistfully. "Yeah, I guess I would," she said. "But there's also the fact that it's the only time Mom will let you eat this many cookies, isn't there?"
James' eyes sparkled mischievously as he very pointedly stuffed a cookie into his mouth so that he couldn't answer.
Kim grinned back and leaned against his shoulder sleepily.
"So," James said once he had washed his cookie down with a swig of milk, "if you didn't come downstairs to try to catch a peek of Santa, what are you doing up?"
Kim's hand fell instinctively to her rounded stomach. "Your granddaughter's decided lately that 1 a.m. is a good time to practice her kung fu moves."
James laughed softly. "You were the same way, you know." Something flickered across his face that Kim couldn't put her finger on—was it sadness or joy?
"What?" she asked.
James shook his head, smiling. "Nothing, just… sometimes it still catches me by surprise that my 'baby girl' is about to have a baby girl of her own."
Kim smiled back. "Me too." She reached over and plucked another cookie from the plate. "Speaking of which, I don't think I ever really thanked you for talking to Ron a couple of months ago."
James waved his hand as if batting the thanks away. "No problem, Kimmie. I remember what it was like to be a father-to-be. I take it he's feeling better about the 'sitch.'"
"Yeah, for the most part." Kim nibbled at her cookie. "He still has his moments of panic—like the other day when he was trying to put the crib together... but then, so do I."
She looked up at him out of the corner of her eye, half-expecting to hear the same answer she'd gotten from almost everyone else she had dared to mention her anxieties to. She was Kim Possible, she could do anything; after freak fighting, surely parenthood would be 'no big' for her. She knew they meant well, but it wasn't the answer she needed to hear.
James just offered her an understanding smile, though, and she realized instantly that she needn't have worried. She wasn't "Kim Possible" to him. She was Kimmiecub. Her father knew, and loved, the Kim that lay beneath all of those over-confident mottos that the rest of the world thought of as the whole of her being. The little girl who was afraid she wouldn't make a friend in pre-K; the teenager who turned into a nervous wreck at the thought of a boy she liked; and now the young woman who was worried that the only thing she really knew about motherhood was that it was most definitely not 'no big.'
"Parenthood is a big challenge, Kimmiecub," James said. "It's good that you're not going into it thinking everything will come easily—because it won't."
"I hope there's a 'but' coming."
James grinned, wrapping one arm around her shoulder and squeezing. "But you've always excelled at every challenge you've ever taken on, Kim—from learning to tie your own shoes to saving the world. This is the most important one you'll ever face… but I know you can do it. And you know, just like every other challenge you've gone up against, you won't be going it alone either." He chuckled. "Heck, you'll probably get sick of all the 'backup' your mom and I and the Stoppables try to offer."
Kim laughed and leaned into his embrace. "Never."
James kissed the top of her head and reached for another cookie—but he found only crumbs. He stared contemplatively at the empty plate for a long moment. "I guess that's one part of the tradition that fell by the wayside a long time ago," he said quietly.
Kim tilted her head to look up at him. "What part?"
James started almost as if he didn't realize he had spoken his thoughts aloud. "Oh… well, you and your brothers used to leave one last letter to Santa underneath the cookies."
"We did?" Kim looked at the empty plate, trying to jog her memory.
James nodded. "Mm-hmm. You know, just a simple note. 'Dear Santa, thank you for the presents. P.S. You did remember the skates I asked for, didn't you? Just making sure.'" He looked down at Kim and winked. "I always liked it because I got to keep those letters. The other letters to Santa always went off in the mail to get stored away or thrown out or whatever they do with them at the Post Office." He ran his fingers along the edge of the bare plate.
"But I guess all the letters to Santa probably stopped years ago, didn't they?" He smiled, a little sadly. "I'd almost forgotten about those cookie letters myself until just now."
Kim wasn't sure what to say, so she said nothing. Instead she just wrapped her arms around his middle and squeezed. And somehow, with no lights blinking or carols playing, just sitting there hugging her father, it felt more like Christmas to her than it had all month.
It was James who finally broke the comfortable silence. "Kung fu practice over?"
It took Kim a few seconds to remember what he was talking about. "I guess so," she said. "I hadn't even noticed."
James smiled and withdrew his arm from around her shoulders. "You should probably try to go get some sleep then," he said. "We both should. You know the boys and Ronald will have us up bright and early tomorrow."
Kim giggled. "I know." She paused in thought. "But you go ahead, Dad. I'll be up in a few minutes."
James' brow furrowed. "Are you sure? I can stay down here with you if you like."
Kim shook her head and kissed his cheek. "I'll be fine, I promise."
James stared at her for a long moment, then nodded reluctantly and stood up from the table. After rinsing off the plate and glasses, he left the kitchen and made his way back upstairs, leaving Kim alone.
Christmas morning dawned, and James Possible awoke to the sounds of his sons trying and failing to sneak quietly down the stairs.
"Merry Christmas," Anne said, rolling towards him and placing a soft kiss on his cheek. "We'd better get out there before they get up to anything too destructive."
"On Christmas?" James said. "They wouldn't."
Anne just raised a skeptical eyebrow, and he could only chuckle as she stood up and helped pull him out of bed with her.
Out in the hallway, Kim and Ronald were just emerging from their bedroom as well, with Rufus skittering along at their feet. James shared a small smile with his daughter as they all headed down the stairs towards the living room.
Ronald and Kim took the couch. The boys seated themselves on the floor, and James settled into his armchair, with Anne perching on the arm. Rufus set about passing out the gifts from under the tree, with a little help from the boys on the heavier packages.
"Well, James," Anne whispered, "I never thought I'd see the day that you would forget an opportunity to eat my chocolate chip cookies."
Puzzled, James followed her gaze up to the mantle. Sure enough, there sat a plate of cookies and a glass of milk. He scratched his head and looked over at Kim, but her attention was on Rufus at the moment. Was it possible their conversation last night had all been a dream?
He stood up from the chair and walked slowly over to the mantle. He picked up one of the cookies and stared at it speculatively, as if expecting to find that it was a hologram. Like any good scientist, he had to test that hypothesis—so he took a bite. Nope, definitely not a hologram. He looked back down at the plate as he chewed, and it was then that he noticed the corner of a piece of paper sticking out.
He snagged the paper between two fingers and carefully slid it out from under the cookies, then held it up and read:
Dear Santa,
Thank you—for everything.
Your Kimmiecub
P.S. I love you
Through suddenly cloudy eyes, James looked over at his daughter. She was leaning sleepily against her husband's shoulder, one hand resting protectively on her belly. But he could still see a little girl in red pigtails and pink footie pajamas who came running down the stairs to gaze in wide-eyed wonder at all of the brightly-colored gifts.
And next year there would be a new little girl to play Santa for.
"James, come on," Anne said, breaking through his reverie. "Time to open presents."
James smiled. "Coming dear," he said, as he gently folded the little note and tucked it into his shirt pocket. He'd already gotten every present he could ever want.
The End
As 2010 comes to a close (just about 15 minutes until the ball drops here on the west coast), I want to say a quick thank you to everyone who has so warmly welcomed me to the Kimmunity. It's been a very fun year, and I look forward to more of the same in 2011!