"Never let yourself have them," Sean finished. He sat beside me on the bed. "I get it. It took me forever to accept that it was okay to want little things. That being small wasn't something to be ashamed of."
"How did you get past it?"
"Daddy." Sean smiled softly. "He made me feel safe enough to be vulnerable. To let myself be little without worrying about judgment." He picked up one of the coloring books. "Looks like your Secret Santa wants to do the same for you."
"I think they already have," I admitted. "Every gift has been so thoughtful. So perfectly chosen. It's like they can see inside my head."
"Or it could be they just see you. The real you." Sean set the coloring book down. "You going to try any of this stuff?"
I bit my lip. "I already tried the pacifier."
"And?"
"And it was perfect. It felt… right." I pulled it back out from under the pillow. "Is that weird?"
"Not even a little bit. That's what these things are for—to help you feel comfortable in your regression." Sean reached into the box and pulled out the elephant socks. "Put these on. Trust me, fuzzy socks make everything better."
I laughed and pulled them on. He was right—they did make everything better.
We spent the rest of the morning exploring the contents of the box. Sean showed me how to use the pacifier clip, attaching it to my shirt so I wouldn't lose it. We tried the baby powder, which made a wee bit of a mess. We organized the crayons by color and tested them out on one of the new coloring books.
"You should wear the onesie tonight," Sean suggested. "We're all getting together tomorrow evening for little time after presents and everything, but you could break it in tonight. Get comfortable with it."
"Maybe," I said, though the idea made me nervous and excited in equal measure.
By lunch time, I felt excitement brewing at the thought of getting to be little. With this latest gift, I'd been given permission to be myself, fully and completely.
Simon found me in the reading chair, wrapped in my new cloud blanket and coloring with my chunky crayons. Peanut sat beside me, and my new sippy cup—filled with apple juice—was within easy reach.
"Hey, bud," he said softly, and I looked up to find him watching me with such tenderness it made my chest ache.
"Hi, Daddy." The words came out naturally, like they belonged.
He came over and pressed a kiss to my forehead. "You look cozy."
"I am. My Secret Santa gave me all this." I gestured to the items scattered around. "Everything a good boy needs."
"They certainly did." He ran his hand through my hair. "You going to use them?"
"I already am." I held up my sippy cup proudly.
"Good. That's real good, bud."
The next morning—Christmas Eve—dawned bright and cold.
"What time is it?"
"Early. But I need to get out there and help finish up the last of the work before the holiday." Daddy pressed a kiss to my temple. "You stay here and rest. I'll come get you when it's time."
"Time for what?"
"You'll see." His smile was mysterious.
After he left, I dozed for a bit longer, then finally dragged myself out of bed. I settled in with my coloring books instead of trying to be big and helpful. I had no doubt the others wouldn’t let me.
I'd brought Peanut downstairs with me, along with my new cloud blanket, and I was feeling small and content. It was exactly where I wanted to be.
Around mid-morning, I decided to switch to a different coloring book—one of my original ones with the more intricate designs. As I flipped through to find a page I hadn't done yet, something fell out.
