All familiar characters belong to Janet. Mistakes are solely mine. I got the idea for Julie's gift from something I saw online.

"Big a bite, Mama," Olivia ordered.

"Do I really need a bigger bite?" Steph answered. "I like fruit, but in much smaller doses than you enjoy."

I give my wife credit. She'd prefer her banana in a muffin and her strawberries covering a cheesecake, but she does make sure our daughter's eating habits resemble more mine than hers. And getting into the holiday spirit, Steph had cut up a banana and some strawberries and alternated layering them until they formed an all-natural candy cane on Olivia's plate.

Julie and I were on egg duty this morning. She'd crack the appropriate amount for each dish and I'd man the skillet, cranking out scrambled-with-cheese eggs for Olivia, a ham and cheese omelet for Stephanie, a Denver omelet that is Julie's preferred choice, before using just whites for a veggie omelet for myself.

My wife shook her head when I sat down beside her with my breakfast. "That's sad. Your eggs need a doctor. They look anemic compared to our normal omelets."

"What's considered normal varies, Babe. My doctor won't be able to see my eggs on a cardiologist-ordered scan in twenty years."

"That's kinda rude of them. Mine will be there waving 'Hello' to whoever's looking."

"Not funny," I told her, remembering the medical scare Edna had put us through not long enough ago to forget.

"It's a special day," my wife reasoned. "And I already decided to be mostly vegetarian for lunch and dinner tonight to offset this breakfast. Though I had fruit with Olive, so maybe …"

"Two bites does not equal a full serving," I pointed out.

Julie's head moved back and forth between me and Stephanie as if watching a tennis match.

"My point was that you're not saying goodbye to me except when it comes to leaving for work in the morning. I'm the healthiest I've been ... ever."

"And we're going to keep it that way."

"You guys are so weird," our eldest pronounced.

"But in a good way," Steph told her.

Julie grinned. "Definitely in a good way. I feel like I'm playing with you two when I visit as much as I play with Olive."

"Bet you never thought you'd say that about your Dad."

She shook her head in the negative. "Nope. He's relaxed a lot since he met you. Smiles even more since you guys stopped pretending you weren't meant to be together."

"Let that be a lesson to you, Jules," my wife said, pointing her fork at her for emphasis. "Grown-ups act like they know it all, but sometimes their kids are way smarter. Your Dad and I wanted to be together, but you're the only one who knew we would be."

"Eventually," she replied.

"Yup. It took that long to make sure we would produce a kid as perfect as you are with our Olive-Pie. Two months sooner and we could've had a boy exactly like your Uncle Lester."

Steph shuddered for effect and Julie laughed. But I think my wife is only partially kidding. She would believe getting pregnant even two days sooner than she did would have changed who she gave birth to. And not one person who has been around our baby would want someone who isn't Olivia.

The conversation was paused as the baby in question held up another forkful of banana for her Mama. "Okay, this is my last banana-bite and then you need to eat up, Olive. We have our work cut out for us today, since Daddy doesn't think a pastel tree counts as a Christmas tree. We now have two trees to get decorated before tus abuelos get here."

"My parents will survive if our apartment doesn't look like a North Pole reject."

"Dad!" Julie admonished. "You're sounding Grinchy again."

"If that were a real adjective, I'd still deny being it."

"Of course you'd deny it," my wife said, siding with our daughter. "Everyone denies what they actually are."

"That explains why you always argue with me when I mention how beautiful you are," I pointed out.

Her face took on a pinkish tinge before her blue eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Are you flirting with me to draw attention away from your Grinchiness?"

"No, and clearly we are not watching that cartoon - or its movie counterpart - again tonight."

"That's alright, we have plenty of other things to do today. And I'd bet everything I own that your parents are going to stay until at least Olive's bedtime ... if not all night."

"Didn't we just celebrate a holiday?" I teased. "There is a lot of time and effort going into another one so soon."

"National Manoso Day is over so we've moved onto celebrating Christmanoso."

I fought hard not to grin. "Do you sit up at night coming up with these things?"

"Nope. I can be doing nothing or everything and they just pop into my head. Who needs outside entertainment when I have a brain that never shuts the heck up?"

"I love your brain and everything it comes up with," I assured her, leaning close to get a kiss which caused Julie to groan and Olivia to say 'No that'."

"Fine. We'll stop doing that for both of your sakes … once you're finished eating breakfast," my wife told the girls.

That did hurry Julie along. As soon as her plate was clean and she pushed her chair back in anticipation of getting a start on the day, Olivia was wanting to get down out of her high chair to follow her. I cut my eyes to Stephanie and wasn't surprised to see her looking my way. It was a relief to see how much Julie loves her baby sister when jealousy could have been a real issue. To watch them together triggers an emotion that surpasses relief.

"How about me and Olive tackle the cute little pink tree and, Dad, you and Steph can decorate the giant boring one?"

"Now who's being Grinchy?" I asked.

"Our tree won't be boring," Steph argued, "just more on the … traditional … side. If it, or the ornaments, manage to survive Gunny, Mo, and Mado." She turned to me. "We need a Range-tree."

"You want a black tree now?"

"No. It can have a green uniform, but just be as indestructible as you and the guys are."

"We'll attach it to the wall. And every ornament we have claims to be shatterproof. We should be alright."

"You just jinxed it," my wife accused.

"Only one way to find out."

The hours between breakfast and Olivia's nap time were nowhere near organized chaos. It was flat-out mayhem. Even with Tank, Ella, and Hal coming in to help out, keeping the dogs out of the ornaments and Mado from summiting the tree me and Steph were working on, was a challenge.

That being said, I've never enjoyed a holiday more. My daughters were collaborating on the world's most glitter-centered tree, and I got to watch Ella and Steph take turns torturing Tank or Hal by handing them an ornament and telling them in excruciating detail which branch at the top of the seven-and-a-half-foot tree it should be hung on. And anytime my wife noticed me slip away for a moment of quiet, she'd appear behind me holding a fake sprig of Mistletoe so she could kiss the peace back into me.

I decided to take more breaks than I ever have before in my life just to get Steph's lips and hands on me again. My team of trained mind-fixers would say I've developed an unhealthy addiction to my wife, but it's not one I'll give up any lifetime soon.

I wouldn't admit it, but my ladies' decorating goals were well worth the time we'd spent discussing them. I can't say it out loud but having to be away from the states and my family for holidays from the time I'd enlisted until just after I met Stephanie, had me finally able to appreciate what all the excitement was about. I took for granted the Thanksgivings, Christmases, and Easters my parents had given us growing up. I'm old enough to know better. Time with my family is the only thing that matters at the end of every day.

I do have an image to maintain, so I had to ask. "Was it really necessary to decorate every available space between the elevator and our door on top of adding enough lights to cause seizures inside our apartment?"

"Can you say 'Bah Humbug', Olive? Daddy's turning Grinchy again," Steph said.

"Ma bug," she repeated.

That startled a laugh out of me. "Looks like your plan backfired, 'Ma Bug'."

"Careful. Louis has two extra trees in storage … and I'm not afraid to use them."

That is a worrisome threat. The only places left to decorate are the master bathroom and our bedroom, and neither need a tree to bear witness to what we do with - and to - each other in either place.

"You couldn't have used only white lights at least?" I had to ask.

"Nope. This is a multifaceted, multicultural, multifamily family, so we use multicolored lights everywhere."

She makes a strong case for the radioactive glow now spilling out of the living room and shooting in opposite directions, illuminating the path to the front door and also up to the equally-jarring kitchen. We won't need to flip on a light switch until January.

To add to the holiday ambiance, thanks to hours of Christmas carols being piped throughout the apartment while Stephanie, Julie, and Olivia tried their best to tire out Tank and Hal, Olivia has been singing about wanting a hippopotamus for Christmas. Though she mangled the words so thoroughly, she now wants a smammus 4 - complete with almost the right amount of fingers sticking up - issmick.

Oddly enough, she's more likely to have that alternative Christmas-want happen over getting a hippo for a present.

"Aren't our trees awesome, Dad?" Julie said, coming up to hug me.

"They are something," I replied, just to make her laugh.

She knows I'll do almost anything for my girls, but she also knows I don't do anything I don't want to do. I may bitch good-naturedly about our apartment rivaling the entire Quaker Bridge mall when it comes to lights, garlands, and far too many ornaments, but I would've killed this idea if it were one I hated. Though I now foresee all my two AMs including pulling Mado out of the tree where she'll get stuck believing she can't climb down or jump on Mo or Gunny's back as they stand there trying to figure out why the hell she's in the tree instead of taking a nap under it like they've already tried out.

"Is our cat actually getting hypnotized by the ornaments?" My wife asked. "I've only seen her eyes get that big when treats or terrorizing Atlas are involved. You know, I'm gonna have to stuff his pockets with fish bits one of these days to see both of those happen simultaneously."

"Babe."

"Dad's right, Steph," Julie said. "Atlas has been trying. You keep telling me that words aren't nearly as important as actions are. And Uncle Atlas' actions say he deserves a chance to be treated like every other RangeUncle."

"Great … I've got two girls with their Dad's hearing and awareness of what's going on around them."

Julie gave my wife a hug to try to lessen the blow of that knowledge. "The apartment feels really happy," our eldest noted.

"Stephanie wanted to be sure you and Olivia felt festive," I told her.

My wife and Tank snorted, but only Steph was brave enough to say something. "You pretend like you aren't enjoying this, but you have everyone you love around you. That alone cancels out the electric bill and retina burns you'll be recovering from when the holidays are over."

Instead of answering, I bent my head and kissed her, which served two purposes … to get my wife to stop talking plus gross Julie out enough that she'll refrain from further comment.

Hal had left with an Ella-made gingerbread man in each hand eight minutes before my parents arrived from Newark, leading me to believe his self-preservation instincts are on point. Tank being older, slower, and not scared of much anymore, hung around as the second wave of family invaded our apartment.

"This place is absolutely perfect," my mother said, while she was walking through the now open doorway, unwinding the metallic green scarf she'd had wrapped around her neck as another barrier against the plummeting outdoor temperature.

"If you really feel that way, it's about to get even better. There's a fresh batch of homemade cocoa on the stove thanks to Ella and your granddaughter," Steph told them, taking her in-laws' coats and quickly moving out of the way so my mother could grab, hug, and no doubt hold onto Olivia and Julie.

"How are my beautiful granddaughters?" She asked them.

"Good, Grandma," Julie replied. "You have to see the tree Olive and I decorated. Well, I decorated … Olive kept trying to use the ornaments to play fetch with Gunner."

"We have plenty of time, since your Grandfather thinks you and Olivia need some Santa-faced pancakes in the morning and is angling for a sleepover-invite, but I do want to see this tree of yours. Lead the way," her grandmother encouraged as she glanced around the apartment. "It's hard to imagine something more extravagant than what I'm already seeing, but I know you and Olivia will have come up with something special."

"She has no idea," I told my father, earning a glare from the ladies while causing Tank and my dad to smother laughs.

"Next year," I heard Steph mock-whisper to Julie, "we're getting a black tree and devoting it to your Dad."

"Cool! We can use those hair accessories Olive got from the guys when she was too little to enjoy Halloween candy," Julie suggested.

"Good idea," Steph told her, "but we can't use the grenades. They could blow Santa up and that would be bad … though I'd get his cookies if he didn't make it."

"Steph!" Our eldest scolded.

"I'm kidding. Ella makes me my own plate of cookies just so I'll leave his alone. I'm good."

After the year we've had, this is exactly what I've been missing. It would be insane to call this a return to normalcy, but there's definitely a certain comfort to knowing that everyone you love is not only safe, but happy.

Before the group could reach the kitchen, our door was once again being utilized.

"I'm sorry for interrupting," Mabyn said, when I opened it to her, "but Pierre told me he was helping you decorate up here, and I was hoping it would be okay to give Olivia an early Christmas present."

"Trying to bribe Olive into forgetting Uncle Tank has a serious girlfriend now?" Julie teased, as Mabyn walked further up the hall so she could give Tank a quick kiss.

"Yes and no," she said, reflectively wiping his mouth with her thumb in case of an unfortunate lipstick transfer. "I also have something I wanted to give to you. And I believe you've already accepted me … as long as I don't hurt your uncle. The apartment looks amazing, by the way."

"Thanks," Steph said, coming back to me to slip her arms around my midsection. "Pierre, aka Tank, aka GodTank, was a huge help. Literally. Was Julie right? Did you come up with something that will help Olive see that she doesn't get to call dibs on Tank?"

"I hope so."

To say my parents were interested in this new development would be an understatement. My mother even let go of Olivia and hung back just to see what's about to happen. Olivia's eyebrows came together when she spotted Mabyn's arm still around Tank, but she was too distracted by the green wrapping paper covered in Poinsettias to make her displeasure known.

"Fowers," she said, tapping her Mama's arm and pointing in case Steph missed that important detail.

"I see them. Those are Poinsettias," Steph told her. "We don't have any of those here because they can make you, Gunny and Mo, or Mado sick. But they are pretty on paper."

"I picked the paper especially for you, Olive," Mabyn told our baby, while she passed a box wrapped in candy cane paper to Julie.

Tank would know and share how addicted Julie is to candy canes since she only gets to enjoy them two months out of the year. Julie looked over at me to make sure she could open her present.

"Go ahead," I told her, while Steph helped Olivia destroy the wrapping paper on the larger box.

"This is so pretty," Julie said a few beats later.

She held up a clear, circular locket that had the words 'If nieces were jewels, 'Jules' would be the most beautiful gem' written above a floating heart made from a ruby.

"I love it," she exclaimed, hugging Mabyn and then her Uncle Tank. "Thank you. Can you help me put it on?"

While Uncle Tank was busy providing a jewelry-assist, Olivia with Steph's help uncovered and unboxed a different version of him.

"I thought maybe if Olive could hold onto a doll that looks like her 'GodTank', she'd understand that he'll always be there for her, so she won't worry so much about me 'taking him away' from her," Mabyn explained, when my wife's eyes landed on her.

"That's so sweet," Steph told her, looking at the cloth doll that does bear a striking resemblance to Tank ... bald head, big biceps, neck scar and all. "And also really kinda brilliant."

I agreed. Now Olivia has a toddler-sized Tank to have and to hold until she likely finds a more suitable replacement when she heads to preschool.