Connected: Part 4 of the On The Edge Series

Viv and Jackson bolted inside as soon as we got to the house.

"Where are they off to in such a hurry?" I asked as we meandered to the door.

"Pajamas," he explained. "They always do presents in pajamas."

"Ah," I distractedly said.

"What?" Billy pressed with a chuckle.

"You, pajamas." I shook my head.

"I have pajamas, and you've seen them," he admonished.

"You do, and I have, but... have you ever worn them outside the bedroom? You always change."

"No, because pajamas aren't comfortable," he noted as he pushed open the front door.

"By definition, pajamas are comfortable," I argued.

"No, they are... pajamas." The distaste dripped in his tone.

"So, if you hate pajamas so much, why do you wear them?"

"I wouldn't if I didn't have kids, but I do... so I wear pajamas. Trust me, when these two head off to college, pajamas are the first thing to go."

"Noted," I laughed.

"Okay, so we have egg creams," he added, catching my reaction.

"You do?"

"Yeah, I know that egg nog is the more traditional thing, but that stuff is nasty. Plus, the kids love egg creams, so a tradition is born." Billy flourished his hands around the kitchen as though sprinkling sparkles around the space.

"I can get behind this tradition," I agreed. "I was always more of an egg cream girl than a malt girl."

"Oh, I know," Billy griped as he pulled the ingredients out and began the drinks.

"Um." I twisted my face as he threatened to put the seltzer in after the chocolate sauce.

"What?" His voice cracked with annoyance.

"So, are you really going to go syrup, seltzer, milk?"

"Yeah, I've been making these for over a decade," he shot.

"Oh, okay. You've been making them wrong for a decade, but that's fine," I teased.

"Oh, really. Well, if you're such an expert, why don't you make them? And when the kids spit it out like swill, don't come crying to me." Billy backed away from the counter.

"Okay, I'll just cry alone in the shower. I've got years of practice." My words slipped from me with no real thought.

"Hey," Billy spun me to face him. "I was just kidding."

"Oh, sweetie, I was too. I cry in my bed when I'm alone like any self-respecting adult," I cracked again.

"You think you're so funny?" He kissed my forehead but let me return to the egg creams.

Billy and I had just made it to the living room with the drinks when the kids joined us, bickering over something that we couldn't quite catch.

"Hey, no fighting on Christmas," Billy shot.

"We're not fighting, Dad. We're discussing," Viv's sarcasm sliced through her words as she plopped down on the floor and picked up an egg cream.

Jackson settled next to me on the couch and picked up his own.

"Wow, these are good this year. The seltzer isn't as flat," Viv noted, almost to herself.

"Oh, really?" I said, as I tipped my smile to Billy.