As they sat by the fire, drinking cocoa that was mostly marshmallows, Leo looked up at him. "You’re pretty good at this, Grandpa."
It changed on Christmas Eve. A heavy snow began to fall, turning the street into a blurred, white kingdom. Leo stood by the frosted window, his shoulders slumped. "Does Santa know where I am?" he whispered. "I'm not at my house." A Grandpa For Christmas
The first two days were a standoff of sorts. Leo wanted tablets and cartoons; Arthur wanted silence and the morning paper. The house felt too small for the both of them. As they sat by the fire, drinking cocoa
Arthur realized then that he wasn't just "giving" Leo a Christmas. Leo was giving him a purpose. The house wasn't quiet anymore; it was full. He wasn't just an old man in a big chair; he was a storyteller, a cocoa-maker, and a protector of secrets. Leo stood by the frosted window, his shoulders slumped
Arthur sat back, listened to the crackle of the embers, and smiled. He had spent years being a man, a husband, and a worker. But this year, he finally became a Grandpa. And it was the best Christmas he’d ever had.
Arthur felt a tug in his chest he hadn't felt in decades. He realized then that being a grandpa wasn't about having the right toys; it was about being the keeper of the magic.
"Leo," Arthur said, his voice gravelly but warm. "Grab your coat. We have work to do."
