Or as little.
"Elias is there anything you want for Christmas this year?'
"What did I get last year?"
"Well, I dont know. Are there any presents you'd like, any toys or clothes or games or something you are just hoping to be able to do?" Elias leans his tired body against mine. "If so you can tell the elf and he'll fly to the North Pole tonight and tell Santa."
Elias looks up at our Elf on the shelf, named Larl by his sister.
(When I asked the kids if they had any ideas for names, Olive nodded and spelled out: "L.A.R.... L!" Elias accepted her choice and so Larl was named.)
Elias tips his head back further, holding onto me for support, and attempts to make eye contact with the doll dressed in red. "Larl, um, I hope my family goes for a walk."
Oh Love, I think we can handle that.
And to think, I once thought he never would. Walk. My one pound twelve ounce son.
It was once all I wanted from Santa too.
(Photo taken on our discharge day, after 94 days in the NICU)
For our family to just take a walk.