A Unique Gift for a Special Occasion

A peculiar Christmas gift

One woman made a dreadful blunder over the festive season. At first she thought shed done everything by the book. She slipped into her armystyle boots, pulled on a heavy woollen coat and a matching hat, swung herself into the drivers seat of her trusty Land Rover, and set off to confront a certain nuisance.

The woman was Margaret Leighton, lets call her that. She had one son, a lateinlife wonder, and the two of them had shared thirty years together. Margaret adored her boy with a ferocity that could melt steel; she lived, worked and even built a small fortune just for him. The lad, now grown, fell for a university hallmate called Eleanor, and they soon had a child.

Margaret knew the sort of folk who smile while scheming. Shed heard whispers that Eleanor, the girl in question, was eyeing her sons inheritance like a cat stalking a fishbowl. Determined, Margaret tracked down Eleanors flat in a sleepy Nottingham suburb and resolved either to intimidate her or bribe her whatever would keep the snake away from her beloved son, who was already babbling about a wedding.

Margarets face was as grim as a bulldogs, with deep furrows and a stubborn set of eyebrows. Her eyes burned with a fire that would make any Baskerville hound jealous. She was a hulking figure, reminiscent of the statue of Britannia standing over the Thames. On the way, she stopped to pick up a few apples, some pears, and a jingling baby rattle. After all, it was the holidays a little charm never hurts when youre about to make a scene. You cant be a wild beast when youre trying to speak sense, can you?

She rang the doorbell and, like a oneeyed cyclops, shuffled in, shedding her boots and coat. Good afternoon, dear, she began, trying to sound cheerful, only to be halted by the sight of a tiny infant in a playpen.

A little pale boy, his cheeks like fresh snow, stared up at her. Eleanor whispered his name Peter and trembled. Margaret could have scared the wits out of anyone, believe me.

She stepped into the playpen, extended the rattle, and *pop!* the lad burst into a fit of delighted giggles that made Margarets own heart skip a beat. Peter clutched the rattle with both hands, wobbled on his chubby little feet in a sort of impromptu dance, his eyes never leaving Margarets. He waved the toy, shrieking with joy, as if the whole world had turned into a carnival. Somehow, Margarets presence seemed to ignite a boundless enthusiasm in the child.

He reached for her, squealing and laughing, his mouth opening wide as though hed just discovered a new continent. Thats when Margaret slipped. Instinctively she scooped the baby up. Peter clung to her as if she were a lifeboat, his tiny fingers patting her cheek, his rattle tapping a gentle rhythm on her forehead while he cooed.

She began to babble in a soft, gushy voice, spilling nonsense like, Whos this little cherub? Whos this tiny sweet pea? Her heart swelled with a syrupy warmth, and her chest felt as hot as a Christmas pudding fresh out of the oven. Peter stared at her with eyes full of adoration, refusing to look away. He emitted a scent of pure happiness, the kind that makes you think angels have taken on the smell of newborn babies.

Margaret, in that instant, didnt want to put the child down. Shed give the world for him. Love sudden, bewildering, and oddly fragrant had struck her like a bolt. A tear slid down the line of her weathered cheek, and she whispered, Youre my little miracle.

Soon enough, she ordered her son to get married. He, being a stubborn lad, ignored her commands at first, but eventually he did for he loved Eleanor and adored his son, Peter. Using a mixture of gentle blackmail and promises of a grand family home, Margaret coaxed the young couple into moving into her sprawling, slightly creaky Victorian house on the outskirts of town.

She didnt hover too much; the trio settled into a peaceful routine, the house echoing with laughter and the occasional rattle. Margarets world had been entirely captured by Peters giggles. They seemed inseparable, two peas in a pod, forever smitten.

So, one womans terrible mistake turned out to be a Christmas miracle in disguise. Was it truly a mistake? Who can say? She discovered her unexpected gift on a frosty morning, and as anyone whos ever unwrapped a present knows, the best ones are the ones you never saw coming. Christmas, after all, is a special day and the gifts it brings are often the most surprising.