A note.
My heart sped up as I picked it up. It was in the same handwriting as all the other Secret Santa notes, but this one was different. Simpler.
Christmas Eve evening, 6 PM. Main house living room. Wear something comfortable that makes you feel little. This is your final gift—and it's one I hope you'll treasure forever.
Christmas Eve evening? That was… tonight.
I clutched the note to my chest, excitement and nervousness warring in my stomach. What could the final gift be? And why the specific instructions about wearing something that made me feel little?
I thought about the onesie upstairs. About how Sean had suggested I wear it tonight.
Was that what my Secret Santa wanted? For me to show up in little space, vulnerable and open?
The thought terrified me. But it also felt right.
I spent the rest of the day in a state of anticipation, coloring and sipping juice and trying not to let my nerves get the better of me. Simon came in around lunch, covered in snow and looking tired but satisfied.
"We got it all done," he announced. "Everything's battened down for whatever comes our way. Tonight we can just relax and enjoy."
"That's good." I was curled up in the corner of the couch, my blanket wrapped around me. "Simon? There's something happening tonight. In the living room at six."
He came over and sat beside me. "Is there now?"
"My Secret Santa left me a note. They said it's my final gift." I pulled the note from my pocket and showed him.
He read it carefully, and something shifted in his expression. "Sounds special."
"I'm nervous," I admitted. "They want me to wear something that makes me feel little. What if everyone sees? What if they judge me?"
"No one here would judge you, bud. You know that." He pulled me to his side. "But if you're not comfortable, you don't have to do it."
"No, I want to." And I did. I wanted to be brave. Wanted to show my Secret Santa that I trusted them, that I appreciated everything they'd done for me. "Will you be there?"
"Wouldn't miss it for the world."
As six o'clock approached, I went upstairs to change. I pulled out the onesie—soft and covered in elephants—and put it on. It fit perfectly, snug but comfortable. I added my elephant socks and clipped my pacifier to the onesie, even though I wasn't sure I'd have the courage to actually use it in front of everyone.
I looked at myself in the mirror and barely recognized the person staring back. I looked… young. Vulnerable. Completely and utterly little.
But I also lookedhappy.
Downstairs, I could hear voices and laughter. Everyone was gathering. I took a deep breath, grabbed Peanut for moral support, and headed down.
The living room was transformed. Blankets and pillows were scattered everywhere, creating cozy nests. Several of the littles were already there—Sean in his own onesie, Beau in fuzzy pajamas, a few others I recognized from around the ranch.
And standing along the edges, watching with soft expressions, were the Daddies. Atticus had his arm around Sean. Jackson was smiling at Beau. Griffin stood with Harlan, and there were others too.
And my Daddy. He was there, watching the doorway like he'd been waiting for me.
When he saw me, his whole face lit up.
I clutched Peanut tighter and took a tentative step into the room.
"Tanner!" Sean bounced over to me. "You wore it! You look so cute!"
"Thanks," I mumbled, feeling my cheeks heat.
But Sean was right—everyone was smiling at me. Warm, accepting smiles. No judgment. No mockery. Just acceptance.
