O Come, All Ye Kellys (Love & Luck #7) - Isla Olsen Page 0,13

neither Brendan or I have been able to get a wink of sleep thanks to Baxter kicking at us.

“What do you think the chances are of getting her fed and changed and back to sleep before he wakes up again?” Brendan asks quietly.

I offer a wry smile. “Only one way to find out.”

I carefully slide out of bed so as not to disturb my sleeping son and pad quietly out of the bedroom and across the hall to the nursery. I make sure to turn the sensor off on the monitor before reaching down to pull my fussing eight-day-old daughter from her bassinet.

“Hey, princess,” I coo in a soft whisper as I draw her up against my shoulder and start bouncing around a little. “You’re hungry again already, huh?”

The movement quiets her pretty quickly; like her fictional namesake, Arya seems to be a bit of a thrill-seeker, always at her happiest when she’s being swooped or bounced in someone’s arms, or sitting in her motorized swing. But even though the crying has stopped, she’s still a little unsettled and I can tell she’s eager for some food.

As an early Christmas gift, my sister, Amy, bought us an awesome machine that makes up formula, basically like a Keurig for baby bottles. We decided to keep it in the nursery because, let’s face it, overnight feedings are when we need the most help. So now all I need to do is press a button and a few seconds later I have a fresh, warm bottle for my little girl.

Once she’s fed and changed I attempt to put Arya back to sleep in her bassinet, but she doesn’t want to settle this time around and I know the chances of me getting any further sleep this morning is now practically zero.

I carry my daughter across the hall, prepared to tell Baxter it’s okay for him to open his presents now, but find both him and Brendan sound asleep. Deciding to let them sleep—we’ll all be better off for Baxter getting as much shut eye as possible—I take Arya down to the kitchen and strap her into her carrier so she can snuggle against me while I prepare stuff for breakfast. Despite her unwillingness to settle in her own bed, it only takes about five minutes for her to fall asleep in the carrier. I shake my head wryly as I look down at her sleeping peacefully. “Figures.”

With everything that’s been going on lately, our pantry and refrigerator are not quite as stocked as they usually might be—which is why we ended up leaving a celery stick for the reindeer last night instead of the usual carrot—so getting together some items for a nice breakfast is a bit of a challenge. I manage to find some frozen hash browns in the freezer, so I pre-heat the oven and stick them in. I figure if I pair them with some cut up fruit and natural yogurt it’ll all be balanced out. I’m just cutting up some apple slices when I hear pounding footsteps down the hallway.

“Oh my god!” Baxter shrieks, skidding into the living room. “RUDOLPH ATE THE CELERY!” I grin at his reaction. Clearly when he came out earlier to check on the status of the presents he forgot to check whether the snacks we left out last night had been eaten.

“How do you know it was Rudolph?” Brendan asks, rubbing a hand over his sleep-messed dark hair as he follows after Baxter. “It could have been Dasher. Or Prancer. Actually, I think I read somewhere that Comet is a big fan of celery.”

Baxter’s eyes blow wide as saucers. “Really?”

Brendan nods sagely. “Absolutely. It helps with his digestion.”

I let out a soft chuckle as I watch the pair of them. Despite several of Brendan’s tall tales being thoroughly debunked, Baxter still hangs on his every word like it’s gospel.

“Why don’t you go have a look at your presents?” I suggest, nodding toward a pile of gifts wrapped in dark blue reindeer print paper.

Baxter jumps at the suggestion, immediately rushing over to see his presents. But as he catches sight of another pile of gifts, a confused frown forms on his face. “What are those?” he asks, pointing at the collection of gifts wrapped in a pink snowflake print.

“Those must be Arya’s presents,” Brendan says brightly. He steps toward me and reaches out a finger to gently stroke over Arya’s cheek. “Did you see that Ari?” he coos. “Santa left you presents.”

This seems to confuse