omnipresents

Christmas in our house this year was a tiny affair, a break from tradition with just the three of us quietly celebrating the day in our pajamas, opening presents and then watching movies while the scent of pot roast slowly braising to tender goodness wafted throughout the house. It's not exactly a scene from a Norman Rockwell painting, but I think a scene in many ways that we find just as comforting.

Without the distractions of many people opening their presents as in Christmases past, Little Kielbasa finally made the connection between all that stuff under the tree and what it might mean for him. Food. Toys. And lots of it. In a year where we had somewhat intentionally and unintentionally not purchased a lot for ourselves or for others, Baxter still managed to hit the jackpot, thanks to a package mailed from his great aunt and uncle that contained a stocking bursting with toys and treats. Green plaid tin from mom and dad filled with a few rawhide knots and a stuffed squeaky Comet reindeer? Meh, Baxter's eyes said. I'll get back to that later. What's that I smell in stocking with the paw prints all over it??

And so we opened all Baxter's gifts first, letting him joyfully sniff at all his new goodies before putting the edible ones up high so we could move on to opening our presents. Disappointment for our little boy, that I temporarily staved off by giving him a rawhide knot from his under appreciated tartan tin.



I probably should have figured out earlier that opening Baxter's presents first wouldn't be a great idea. Now clued into the concept of my opening packages and finding out that these things were for him, my little package inspector finished his rawhide quickly and came back, expecting to sniff every present I subsequently opened, just to keep tabs, it seems, on what else should come his way. No matter where I turned on the floor to find an open space to open my presents, there stood my little boy ready to give things a sniff, to claim what was rightfully his by leaving schnoz markes all over it. An uncanny ability, really, to be so omnipresent in the presence of presents. Another doxie superpower mastered by Baxter at the ripe old age of three.