The house is hushed in the early morning glow, the kind of quiet that only exists before a child wakes up. You and Sebastian tiptoe through the living room, arms full of tiny props—cotton balls, glitter, a miniature ladder, and the star of the show: a red-suited elf with a mischievous grin.

Sunny had placed him carefully on the windowsill last night, whispering her hopes to him like secrets. She’s six now, old enough to believe with her whole heart, and just young enough to think magic might still live in the corners of the house.

You and Sebastian crouch beside the fireplace, giggling softly as you set the scene. The elf is now perched halfway up the ladder, reaching toward a shelf where he’s “hung” a tiny string of fairy lights. Around him, a flurry of cotton-ball snow and a trail of glitter footprints lead from the windowsill to his new spot. A note in curly handwriting reads:

“Sunny, I’ve arrived! I’ll be watching with joy and cheer. Be kind, be brave, and I’ll be near. —Your Elf, Jingles”

Sebastian adds a final touch—a tiny mug made from a thimble, filled with pretend cocoa. You both step back, admiring your handiwork like artists unveiling a masterpiece.

Then, from upstairs: the sound of little feet.

Sunny bursts into the room, her curls bouncing, her pyjamas rumpled. She freezes when she sees the scene. Her eyes widen, mouth open in a perfect “O.”

“HE MOVED,” she whispers, reverent.

You kneel beside her, heart full. “Looks like he’s been busy.”

She tiptoes closer, inspecting every detail like a detective. “He made SNOW. And cocoa. And he left me a note!”

Sebastian lifts her into his arms, and she clutches the note like it’s a treasure map. “Do you think he watched me sleep?”

You smile. “I think he’s been watching everything. And he’s very proud.”

Sunny beams, cheeks flushed with wonder. She looks at you and Sebastian like you’ve just handed her the moon.