This is the first Christmas I’m together with mommy.

We’re at her place; her parents left, we all had dinner together. I think they know I call their daughter mommy. Have to, she kept mommying me the whole time.

We’ve had a lovely dinner and now we’re sitting by the fire. My head’s in mommy’s lap. Her breasts are smushing my face. She’s wearing a cable-knit sweater she opened earlier. I got it for her. I got her other things, too, but I’ve been saving those for right now. Til when we’re alone.

Everything is so relaxed and comfortable. I keep flinching inside, like I might fall through the floor and wake up. She looks down and seems contented. I very much want to believe it’s how she feels.

Mommy’s holding my hand and her hair graces my face. She has mommy hair. It’s hard to explain. One-length.

Mommy’s here with me and it’s our first Christmas together. I’ve spent a small fortune on sex toys, and hidden them around the house. A whole little scavenger hunt for mommy, little rhymes and everything. It’s corny but I love it; I love her and she loves me.

I’ve never before felt so accepted and shameless; never in my life would I have thought this was possible for me.

Mommy’s wearing the perfume I got her; it smells amazing. Mommy got me a book. I haven’t seen inside.

We’re sitting on the couch and she’s stroking my eyebrow with her thumb. She gives me it to suck; I do and close my eyes.

Mommy hums a Christmas carol to me as the fire crackles. The house is very toasty. It smells like gingerbread.

Soon we will have a cup of tea, I suggest. She says that sounds nice. She’s glad to see me, she says.

A second passes before my face questions; that doesn’t make sense to say.

“Huh?” I say, then kiss my lips for her thumb.

A second passes; a sinking feeling.

Again I open my eyes.