I always thought our family was wrapped in holiday magic. My husband Hayden still leaves love notes after twelve years, and our daughter Mya sees wonder everywhere. Each Christmas, I try to make the season unforgettable for her. This year, I hid Nutcracker tickets under the tree, eager to see her excitement.
In the days before Christmas, Mya worried about Santa’s tired reindeer, asking what they ate and how they rested. On Christmas Eve, after lights, dinner, and bedtime hugs, everything felt perfect — until I woke in the night and found her bed empty. Panic set in, until Hayden spotted a note by the tree.
Mya had written to Santa, offering blankets, sandwiches, and even our car keys so the reindeer could rest at the abandoned house across the street. I found her there, bundled up and patiently waiting. Relief overwhelmed me as I brought her home, keeping her magic intact.
By morning, a reply from “Santa” thanked her kindness. Watching her joy, I realized Christmas magic wasn’t something I created — it was something she already carried inside her.
