Bree is very upset about the kiss that was meant for Santa.
"That kiss was meant for Santa." Bree’s tone sounded like a parent speaking to a child, rather than the other way around. The scolding, calm voice of Ci’s six-year-old daughter was a lie. The little girl took a quick intake of breath and... “I just said that was meant for Santa. Just now! And you ate it anyway!” Bree wailed, tears spilling down her cheeks. Ci had to marvel briefly at her youngest daughter’s ability to go from zero to breaking the sound barrier in eight seconds. Ci sighed internally. Each of her children had a flair for the dramatic, but Bree took everything to a whole new level.
“It’s not like Santa’s re-” Valerie started to say something, but between the look Ci shot her oldest child and the smack in the stomach Val’s girlfriend gave her, Valerie thought better. “Really going to care. He won’t mind if Dad has one of his kisses. Will he, Mom?”
Ci took Bree’s hand gently. Santa won’t mind sweetheart, but we do have another bag of kisses so you can replace the ones your father ate.”
“Okay, but he had better not eat another one!” Ci watched her daughter side eye her father and wondered how she’d learned such a talent so young. Probably Valerie.
“I’m sure he won’t.” Ci glanced at her husband and intended to communicate that if he wanted to live, he would not eat another one of the candies they’d left out for Santa. And then Ci realized it was probably from herself that Bree had learned that look. Ah well. She'd worry about that later.