Anna smiled down at their son as he lay in his cot, already asleep as she could discern from the soft rise and fall of his chest. He'd had quite the day's play in the nursery at the house, both Miss Sybbie and Master George keeping him entertained. The children were more playful than usual, given the excitement that was in the air about Christmas being so close.
Looking at him now, so peaceful in slumber, she knew well that he wouldn't really be aware of what all the fuss was about. Yet she was excited on his behalf, eagerly anticipating his first Christmas. He probably wouldn't have any memories of this particular Christmas as he grew up, aside from knowing that he was happy and loved ever so much. She hoped he would always be certain of that; when he was old enough to comprehend, she was certainly planning upon telling him how he had been wanted and longed for more than the world itself and she could only hope that he wouldn't be too embarrassed by the fact.
Regardless of how much of this Christmas made its way into his head, as opposed to his heart, she was determined to make it as special as it could possibly be. The only thing that couldn't be guaranteed upon was the snow, but she had already sent up a few prayers for that and she was sure that she wasn't alone in hoping the wish could be fulfilled.
She heard soft but discernible footsteps at her back, and smiled as she came face to face with John. He came to stand by her side and she watched him as he stared in wonder at their darling boy, her gaze going between the both of them. It was almost impossible to believe that nearly a whole year had passed since he had made his entrance into the world and made both of them happier than they could have ever dreamed possible.
"No lullabies or stories tonight, then," he said in a voice only a touch louder than a whisper, careful not to disturb their precious boy as he slept.
"He must have been tired out, bless him," Anna replied, smiling back at him.
They marvelled for a few more quiet moments, with Anna adjusting the swaddling so that he would be cosy but not too tightly hemmed in. John watched fondly from the door, aglow with love for the both of them.
"Snug as a bug in a rug," she uttered softly, leaning down to press a kiss to his soft, smooth forehead. "Sweetest dreams, sweet-pea."
It was a little early for them to retire themselves just yet, and besides, there was some important business that Anna wanted to take care of, seeing as they had the time to do it. She went into their room to retrieve the bags, wondering for a moment if perhaps they had gone a little overboard. She quickly decided against that way of thinking, however, considering that there wasn't that much, and certainly not in comparison to the many presents that Master George and Miss Sybbie were likely to be receiving come Christmas morning.
Anyway, she thought that it was entirely fair if they saw fit to spoil their son for his first Christmas, seeing as they had waited so long for him.
She was glad to find John at the kitchen table, ready with the paper, when she made her way downstairs, even if he didn't look quite so thrilled at the prospect as she was.
"Half each," she said as she started to dish out the gifts between them, "I think that's fair."
"Give it a few minutes, and you might come to think differently."
"You can't possibly do much worse than I did last year," she replied with a wide smile, thinking of her poor efforts, being somewhat hampered by the fact she hadn't been able to get down onto the floor or really do much movement at all given how big she had gotten.
"At least you had a very good excuse," he returned, his eyes brightening temporarily with a smile as he recalled.
She let herself share in the happy memories and then seized the sticking tape, taking off some pieces before passing it onto John. "Enough putting it off. We'd better make a start."
He looked rather reluctant, but got underway soon enough.
While she had wrapped two of the presents in quick succession and was onto her third she heard a muttering of curses from across the table, along with a loud and sustained rustling of paper. She tried hard to stifle her laughter, feeling that he wouldn't particularly appreciate it in the circumstances.
"Oh dear," she said when she finally did look up, having finished wrapping the third gift, "I think that he might do a better job if he were to have a go himself."
She didn't think she'd ever seen him look so disgruntled ever before than he did right then.
"It's much easier wrapping books or things in boxes," he offered in his defence, nudging his head towards the small pile that she had neatly taken care of, "trying to disguise a teddy bear is much harder. And don't even get me started on the spinning top!"
"Alright," she said, trying to placate him and reaching over the table, "I'll swap you."
He gave her a small smile by way of apology, and also, she suspected, to show how grateful he was of her offer.
"I don't see why we need to wrap anything anyway."
"I know we probably don't need to, but it's all part of the experience, isn't it? I want him to be surprised, even if it won't take him very long to open them."
He tilted his head, extending his arm to cover her hand, stopping her mid-flow.
"He's going to have a wonderful time."
"I hope so," she said, with a smile. "Imagine if he spends more time playing with the paper than the toys themselves."
"That's a distinct possibility," John replied, "but he'll find time for everything, I'm sure. Then there are the birthday presents, too."
"We haven't done too much, have we?"
"I don't think so. It is our first time at this, so if we have then I'm sure we'll learn for the future."
She smiled across the table at him, glad that they were on the same wavelength.
"Perhaps Mrs Hughes might be able to give you a masterclass before it comes to wrapping the birthday presents," she suggested, biting back her laughter.
"I'd be careful of what you say," he replied, aiming to keep a straight face but not altogether managing it, "or you might find yourself disappointed on Christmas morning."
They both laughed then, knowing that could not possibly be the case, not this year or the many more that were to come.
A/N: I'm taking a slight liberty with history here, as according to the font of all knowledge (Google) sellotape wasn't invented until 1937. But there must have been some alternative before then, right?