[This is the third and final entry today. Click back twice for the beginning of the story]

We arrived home from the Christmas Eve party around 10 p.m. AJ was exhausted. He fell asleep in the car, his head thrown back, his nose pointing toward the ceiling, his mouth open, breathing heavily and, every now and again, making the sucking motion with his mouth that he�s done since he was a baby.

He woke up and got excited when we got home. He picked out cookies for Santa and, after learning that we did not have nine carrots (one for each reindeer), agreed that it would be okay to cut one carrot into nine pieces. We poured a glass of milk and left all of it on the coffee table in front of the fireplace. We read the last chapter of our Advent book (the book was a gift to AJ from my parents several years ago), and tucked AJ into bed.

Mr. Spy and I were not long to follow. Mr. Spy dozed off listening to the Morman Tabernacle Choir while I played Santa, filling the stockings, eating the carrots and cookies and drinking the milk, writing a thank you note from Santa, and setting up AJ�s toys. When I came upstairs, I switched it off and read for a while. I usually reread Little Women starting on Christmas Eve -- a personal ritual that dates back to my childhood. But I read it not that long ago, when my book group was reading Geraldine Brooks� March (a sort of gloss on Little Women focusing on the experiences of Mr. March while away at war). Instead I pulled out my old copy of Mary Mapes Dodge�s Hans Brinker, or The Silver Skates. I haven�t read this one in years and am enjoying it immensely.

I slept fitfully. I think I was actually more excited about Christmas than AJ, although I was excited for AJ. He has been so much fun all month. I could hardly wait for him to wake up.

* * * * *

Christmas morning, AJ woke up later than usual at 7 a.m. He bounced into our room and we all went downstairs together. The first thing he spotted was the Playmobil airport. My parents had sent it to him and I�d spent more than two hours putting it together over the past week. �It�s just what I wanted!� Then he found Santa�s note and read it a couple of times.

When we gave the go ahead, he tore into the stockings. After the stockings, there were the tree presents, which he handed round. He, of course, got the lion�s share, including a Playmobil airplane, Colorforms (I was most excited about this staple of my own childhood, a gift from my aunt), a mug with his name on it, a shirt from my university, some books. My brother in Thailand sent a package of beautiful fabric things. A towel hanger shaped like an elephant with a bath towel for AJ, a turquoise pashmina wrap for me, a very cool T-shirt from the Foreign Correspondents Club in Phnom Penh for Mr. Spy, and a hand-woven throw for all of us. Mr. Spy got me the one thing I really wanted: a bolster for yoga practice, as well as an assortment of things that smell nice and make my bath water fizz.

This was the first year that AJ had had a chance to do his own shopping, so he was quite excited about us opening our presents. Mr. Spy received a waist pack that holds water bottles and can be strapped to bike handlebars. I received a pair of pretty glass earrings, which I have, of course, been wearing since yesterday morning. He also made us a snowflake picture frame magnet at school, which now adorns the side of our refrigerator.

It was a nice morning. AJ had the Christmas of his dreams. He asked for relatively little and got everything he wanted and more. There were plenty of presents, but less than in past years � a much more manageable Christmas.

After we�d opened all there was to open, I called my brother and got to talk to them before they headed to bed. They�d already had a long Christmas Day. They hadn�t yet received our package. We hope it gets there soon. After that I called my parents so I could talk with my grandmother, whom they�d picked up to bring her to their house for the day.

This was the first time I�d spoken with my grandmother in a couple of months. She doesn�t answer the phone anymore, so I�ve given up trying to call her unless she�s visiting my parents. It was a hard conversation. Her voice doesn�t even sound like her. She asked three times in the span of five minutes where I was, where I lived. She remembered me, though, and she knew who I was through the whole conversation. But at some point � I don�t remember which of us began it � we began talking about Christmases in her house in Michigan, the one where she lived throughout my childhood. And then she seemed like herself. She remembered those long-ago things. She doesn�t remember my husband or my son, but she remembers planting the spruce tree in their front yard and she remembers their old dog Boomer, who died before I turned 8.

Afterwards, we piled our car with more presents and headed to my sister-in-law�s for Christmas morning with AJ�s other grandma, my husband�s three siblings and their families. There was enough food to feed another 30 people, including 5 kinds of cookies, three cakes, three kinds of ice cream, two kinds of muffins, two kinds of scones, and chocolate candy. I should point out that there were 11 of us in attendance.

After we feasted, there were more presents. AJ got a building set made out of magnetic balls and rods, which he loved, a wooden baseball pinball game that is a miniature version of one his uncle has that he adores, a huge stack of books, Playmobil pirates, basketball pjs and assorted shirts with numbers on them.

We spent the rest of the day moaning from overeating, watching football, playing with toys, and generally relaxing.

Driving home, we turned on the Christmas carols in the car once more. After about ten minutes, AJ suddenly piped up. �I�m so happy that my whole body is happy,� he said. �I�m happy in my brain and happy in real life. My shoulders are so happy.� He wiggled his shoulders to demonstrate how happy they were. They looked pretty happy and so did he.

AJ had the Christmas of his dreams. He asked for relatively little and got everything he wanted and more. I think that�s the secret right there.

2 people said it like they meant it