Christmas Eve, 9pm

Christmas Day was merely hours away, your son was excited, as were you, but both of you knew it wouldn't quite be the same since he wouldn't be able to spend that day with you. Your husband, John Price, was a military captain and unfortunately, he called saying that he wouldn't be able to make it home on time for Christmas. You understood, but that doesn't mean you couldn't be a little disappointed. But you wouldn't let your disappointment ruin it for you and your kid, you'd still try to make Christmas just as good as when Price is home. You and your child had just put down a plate of cookies, a glass of milk, and a few carrots by the fireplace for Santa and his reindeer. You were now sitting on your child's bed, tucking them in and wishing them a goodnight. Once they fell asleep, you went to your own room to go to bed.

Christmas Morning, 7am.

You were harshly awoken by your child bouncing on your bed while cheerily screaming "IT'S CHRISTMAS, IT'S CHRISTMAS, IT'S CHRISTMAS!!!!!!" You tiredly groan and get up, following them as they race downstairs to open the presents that sat under the Christmas tree. You make yourself a tea as they shred through all of the presents you- I mean Santa bought for them. You smile softly and then sigh, wishing Price could be here too.

You sit on the floor with your kid as they show off their cool toys to you. Out of nowhere, the front door is kicked open by a massive black boot and in steps... "SANTA?!" Your child exclaimed, dropping whatever they were holding and running up to him. Santa comes into the living room in his iconic red outfit, woolly hat, big bushy beard, white hair, and a massive sack over his back. With a grunt, he hoists the sack of presents off of his back and onto the floor. Santa then takes off his hat, he kneels down and embraces your child in a massive hug, looking at you as he does so with twinkling eyes,

"Merry Christmas, love..." he says with a quokka-like smile.

Price...