Past pale dawned stocking laughter, the family gathers once more on our bed. Oranges and apples and chocolate-coins tumble and a little baby looks up in adoration at our milky-breasted eldest. He twists.
A Villa tooth-brush and matching rosy-apple sweets fall into the hands of our son. He is happy.
The present spinning, and by turns we venture through Christmas together, gathered at the foot of our bed.
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