[008]
My earliest and only memory of a happy Christmas was right before my mum left. I was about two and a half at the time and that's why it's...only a faint memory. The evening before, on Christmas eve, my mum let me open a present early. It was a pair of snowman pajamas I'd seen at a shop and proclaimed I wanted. When she wouldn't buy them for me then and there I was so angry with her but seeing them there for me to wear on Christmas eve and all day following it...well, everything was forgiven and I'd never been happier.

I woke up the next morning to many other gifts, though none as special as those pajamas. It was one of the last times, I think, that I ever saw my dad smile and it was over something as simple as a paper ornament mum had helped me make for him.

Its the only memory I really treasure from my childhood and its pathetic and obsolete these days but I just thought I'd throw it out there. I needed to write something down...because I'm certainly not getting anywhere on my novel.