Wondrous and drowsy, your eyes glimmered,
Drawn to the bundle beneath a tree too grand, too gaudy,
Its branches spilling light onto the floor like a misplaced star.
This year, impatience hung in the air,
Justified, perhaps, by the strange rhythm of our new normal.
You awoke hours early,
Summoning all the patience a four-year-old heart could hold, as you waited.
Was it Daddy’s arrival that sparked your joy,
Or the anticipation of brightly wrapped promises waiting at your feet, soon to be revealed?
It didn’t matter — your enthusiasm was a sunrise in itself.
Each package you approached with reverence,
Scissors in hand, wielding your newfound skill.
No frantic ripping, no reckless haste —
Only the deliberate unveiling of wonder.
Afterward, surrounded by the crumpled wrappings that once hid baby dolls and baby sharks,
You played — your laughter and secret dialogues a soft murmur.
Daddy watched as you lost yourself in every new pretend.
A quiet smile tugged at his lips,
As he realized the new normal had, it seemed, affected him more than it had you.
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