He looks over what remains of his glass soldier-mouse, at least as old as junior, reduced to head and hat after last year's packing incident. At least this much is intact. He relaxes in the mellower tone of this room. Just a regular old tree, gas logs ablaze and one small Angel Tree set off in the opposite corner. Ma summons him into the kitchen to admire her latest evergreen opus.
Pop slowly obliges.
On entering the doorway and stealing a glimpse of gleaming cookie cutters, he smiles and scratches his head. Ma gives him a hug and kiss. What a good sport. But there's more. Ma asks sweetly.