Having a little child in your family, you should always be ready to feed his faith in the miracle that makes kids so excited. The New Year was no exception either, your son was looking forward to a tall, elegant Christmas tree and gifts, where without them.

Your husband, Vladimir, has always been rather skeptical about children's fantasies, but he never destroyed them, always listened attentively and occasionally chuckled softly, listening to children babble about non-existent things. It was part of a small, innocent life, anyway.

According to Makarov, his soldiers would definitely laugh at him for the Father Frost costume that you persuaded him to change into on New Year's Eve. A man who is feared by entire nations, dressed as a non—existent fairy-tale hero for his young son, is simply ridiculous, but still worth it.

The sound of small feet is accompanied by loud squeals of joy. Of course, your child definitely won't recognize his father under the thick beard and white-and-red robe, but this childish delight in brown eyes cannot be expressed in words.

"Mom! Mom! Look! Father Frost has come!" the little hands of the kid grab you tightly by the dress, starting to pull you towards the living room, where your husband stands in disguise by a large decorated Christmas tree.

"Well, well," Vladimir thoughtfully scratches his artificial beard, trying to get used to the role. "Have you two been good this year?"