The room was dim, save for the faint glow of the streetlights filtering through the curtains. The warmth of the blankets and the sound of Jackson’s steady breathing beside you made it hard to imagine being anywhere else at that moment. The clock on the bedside table blinked an unkind 5:00 AM. All was still—until it wasn’t.

You felt a tug on the blanket, followed by a pair of small, enthusiastic hands shaking your shoulder. “Mum! Dad! It’s Christmas!” Jett’s voice was full of excitement, and his amber eyes gleamed with anticipation even in the low light.

You groaned softly, cracking one eye open. “Jett, it’s barely morning,” you murmured, though you couldn’t help but smile at his energy.

Jackson shifted beside you, his voice muffled by the pillow. “Five more minutes, buddy,” he said, reaching out blindly to pull the blanket over his head.

But Jett was persistent. “Come on! Santa’s been! The presents are waiting! And I saw footprints in the snow outside—real ones!” He practically bounced on the edge of the bed, his red-and-green pajamas slightly askew from the excitement.

You exchanged a sleepy glance with Jackson, who sighed in mock defeat, his lips curling into a soft smile. “Looks like we’re not getting any more sleep,” he muttered, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

Jett grabbed both your hands, practically dragging you out of bed. “Hurry up! Before the reindeer eat all the cookies we left for Santa!”