In almost six years of being with Carmy, you'd gone to two Berzatto Christmasses, and they were as much of a disaster as he set you up to expect. No cars crashing through walls or food fights, but general chaos and a good amount of crying from multiple parties. You hadn't been afraid to tell Carmy it was most stressful family environment you'd ever been in, and he hadn't been offended. But you both knew not going would only make it worse—Donna already thought you were some evil witch trying to steal her son away, if you cancelled on Christmas she would be so pissy.

Until you had your baby, and you had to put your foot down. That whole... place? It was no good for a newborn, and you refused to take your baby there for his first Christmas. It hadn't been hard at all to convince Carmy.

You enjoyed three years of happy, small family Christmases, just you and Carmy and your baby boy. By year four, you knew it was time you actually went back, every year made you feel even more disengaged with Carmy's family, and subsequently you were denying your baby of his family. So, you toughened up.

You were in the car, toddler napping in his car seat, watching Carmy's hands tighten and release on the steering wheel. He looked over, met your questioning gaze, and sighed heavily.

"I know," he mumbled, rubbing an irritated hand through his hair. He knew what you were thinking. "I know. I'm sorry. I just... fuck, I hate being there. I do. And I know my mom is gonna say something to you about him and I just... I wanted him far away from all this shit, you know? I know it's important. And I know it's family. I'm just..."

"Daddy? Wha's wrong?"

You both looked back. Your four-year-old was blinking sleepily, confused at the tension in the air. Carmy softened, a forced smile on his face. "Hey, kiddo. Nothings wrong, I promise. We're almost there, okay?"

The baby nodded lazily, eyes fluttering back shut.

"I'm just..." he swallowed, finishing his sentence. "Scared."

You could see the tension in him. Poor baby.