December 25, 1988 – 13 ¾ months old
Christmas morning, Remington and Laura sat together on the couch in the living room, still adorned in pajamas and robe, she snuggled into his side, head resting against his shoulder, he with an arm around her. On the floor in front of the tree, Olivia sat in an empty box, squealing with laughter as she furiously waved a long strip of wrapping paper in front of her, delighting in the sound it made. Around the living room, a small, careful selection of toys lay untouched, much to his dismay, as Olivia seemed to believe her gifts from 'Santa' were the boxes, bows and paper with which she'd been playing for well on an hour now..
"Really, Laura, I'd have been better off simply wrapping a passel of empty boxes," he lamented. She patted her hand against his chest, laughing softly.
"Think of it as a reminder, Mr. Steele," she advised.
"Of what, exactly? The fickle nature of children?" She tipped back her head to look at him.
"That it's the simple things in life which are often the greatest of gifts," she offered, sagely.
Tearing his eyes away from their child, he studied the woman before him intently, mulling her words for little more than two blinks of an eye, before he nodded slowly in agreement. After all, how could he not? Of all the gifts he'd received throughout his life, it was this – his wife, his daughter, their family – which were the greatest gifts of them all. Shifting where he sat, he turned to cup Laura's cheeks in his hands.
"Indeed, they are," he concurred, drawing her lips to his, kissing her softly, allowing his lips to linger for long seconds drawing her back into his side and nuzzled his cheek against the side of her head. "Happy Christmas, Mrs. Steele."
"Merry Christmas, Mr. Steele," she returned, stroking his arm with her hand then tangling their fingers together.
They settled in, and watch contentedly, as Livvie laughed, babbled and cheered, whilst enjoying the simplest of things.