I’m able to bring my father to join us, but Elena’s right in that the coffee has to wait.
I watch the kids for a moment, taking in the scene. They stand before a mountain of gifts.
Their eyes are wide, mouths hanging open in perfect circles of wonder.
"Santa came," Adalina whispers, her voice reverent.
"Look at all of it!" Rocco exclaims, bouncing on his toes.
Elio turns to me, his expression serious. "Did you see him, Daddy? Did you hear the reindeer?"
I nod solemnly. "I thought I heard something on the roof last night."
They dive into the presents with abandon, paper flying, ribbons discarded, squeals of delight at each discovery.
Elena settles on the couch, camera ready, capturing everything.
I sit on the floor among them, helping with stubborn packaging, answering excited questions, watching their faces transform with each revelation.
My father is as delighted as the children. “Your mother would have loved this,” he says to me. “Being a grandma.”
I reach over and give his hand a squeeze.
When Adalina unwraps the art easel, she goes completely still before launching herself into my arms. "How did Santa know?"
"He knows everything," I tell her.
The boys are racing their new toy cars across the hardwood. Elena catches my eye over their heads, her smile so bright it nearly blinds me.
"I have one more surprise," I announce, catching Elena's eye across the sea of discarded wrapping paper. She nods, her smile encouraging me forward. The kids pause their play, looking up with curious expressions.
"Last night, I asked your mom a very important question." I reach for Elena's hand, drawing her closer to me. "I asked her to marry me."
For a heartbeat, the room is silent.
“Well, it’s about time,” my father mutters teasingly.
Then all the kids erupt at once.
"You're getting MARRIED?" Rocco shouts, jumping to his feet.
"Like a real wedding?" Adalina's eyes grow wide. “Can I be in it?”
"Does this mean we'll all live together forever?"
Elena laughs, kneeling down among them. "Yes to all of that. Your dad and I are getting married."
"I can be the ring boy!" Rocco declares, puffing out his chest.
"It's called a ring bearer," Adalina corrects, already in planning mode. "I want to throw flowers. Pink ones. And purple. And we need a cake taller than Daddy!"
"Can I wear a suit like yours?" Elio asks me.
I gather them all into my arms, these miraculous children. "You can wear whatever you want. This is our family celebration."
As they break away, diving into increasingly elaborate wedding plans—Rocco insists we need fireworks, while Adalina debates the merits of different cake flavors—I settle in next to Elena.
“Who knew they were wedding planners?” I quip.
