family + fun

People make a lot of lists in December. Some people make wish lists of gifts they'd like to get. Some make long shopping lists for the grocery store. My mom calls my dad up to ask him to add a stop at the hardware store to his list of Saturday errands because I need a new rope for my sled. My list of the best things about December is:

• sledding,

• rice pudding with extra cinnamon,

• ice skating (except I hate tightening skate laces),

• candles in the kitchen,

• Mom's old "Snow Queen" book,

• and more sledding.

My little brother Danny and I sing "The Twelve Days of Christmas," which is definitely a list. Danny shouts out the "five golden rings" in the song, except he sings "FOUR GOLDEN RINGS" because he just turned 4 and it is his idea of hilarious. The song gets all mixed up, and he laughs until he gets hiccups.

I have been keeping a list of wishes for Aunt Maria and my cousin Josh, who are visiting from Kansas City. It is their first Christmas since Uncle Jack moved out, but we don't really talk about that. The wishes are inside my head. I wish for Josh and Aunt Maria to be happy. I don't wish for Uncle Jack to be my uncle again, though. I've been wishing for Aunt Maria to like the scarf Mom knitted for her. I've been wishing for Josh to like the red sled we bought for him. I've been wishing for Josh to like being in Minnesota in the winter for the very first time.

Dad promised we could take Josh sledding when he and Aunt Maria got here, right away before dark. That isn't exactly how things turned out. I should have been wishing for Josh to not make fun of Danny's new eyeglasses, which have a patch over one of the lenses because of his lazy eye. I should have been wishing for winter clothes.

When the doorbell rang, Danny ran to answer, and all he said was, "YOU look COLD!"

Aunt Maria and Josh were standing on our doorstep wearing just ordinary shirts and jeans. No winter coats, no boots, no hats. Danny stopped in the doorway, blocking the way. No one said anything. Aunt Maria and Josh stood on the doorstep with snow in their shoes, and we stood on the rug inside the front door in our stocking feet. All of us were shivering in the open doorway, with the small warm house behind us and the big cold winter behind them.

But then Mom hugged Aunt Maria. Dad reached for the little duffel bags they were carrying and the plastic sack with leftover snacks from their long trip in the car. I don't think Mom and Dad understood that Aunt Maria and Josh hadn't brought any winter clothes with them to Minnesota, but Danny figured it out right away.

"WHY did you leave your COATS in Kansas City?" he asked.

Josh scowled.

Danny wailed, "HOW are we going to go SLEDDING?"

Mom rubbed Aunt Maria's hands between hers. Cold wind and snow swirled through the open door.

Josh gave Danny a push and hissed, "Who cares? And why do you have those dumb glasses? Cross-eyed baby!"

Danny fell back against the stair railing. That is why, before we even closed the front door, I punched my cousin in the stomach. Dad threw his arms around Josh, stopping him and hugging him at the same time. He ordered Danny and me back to the kitchen. We could hear Aunt Maria crying and trying to explain what had happened. Mom was crying and apologizing. Dad was telling Josh that everything was going to be OK. Josh said sledding was stupid and he didn't want to go anyway.

I was so mad that it felt like there was a fire in my head. Danny sobbed and threw himself down on the floor by the kitchen shelf where we keep our Christmas crèche. When I was little, there were just plain wooden people gathered around the baby Jesus in the manger, plus two sheep and the donkey. But now we have a lot of things collected around the manger, including:

a wind-up penguin,

a Russian doll (the kind with smaller and smaller dolls nested inside),

a plastic canoe,

the tigers from Danny's Noah's ark

and also the pandas,

a clay snowman with twig arms,

and extra blankets we made for the baby

because he looked cold.

After Danny and I played with the crèche for a while, we felt a little bit better. I didn't scold him when he wiped his nose on his sleeve.

• • •

Now we are walking to the park with our sleds!

Josh is wearing my green sweater, inside Mom's fleece pullover, inside Dad's gray vest, inside Mom's rain jacket with the tricky zipper. And we figured out something like that for Josh's feet, too, with three layers of socks inside my rainboots. We couldn't find two matching mittens, but we did find a right and a left. Danny is wearing an old striped cap that is a little too small for him. That is probably the best part of all, because he is letting Josh wear his new Minnesota Gophers stocking cap. I think Josh gets it. He isn't just wearing our clothes. It's like he's got our wishes on to keep him warm.

We're going sledding!

When we get home, I'm going to read Danny his favorite December book, about a snowplow that goes all over the city and gets everyone unstuck. It says "Angie" on the inside cover because it used to be my book. Then maybe Josh and I can go back outside to make snow angels and stomp big stars in the snow. Our clothes might be kind of wet from sledding, and it will be dark out, but we will be warm enough. After dark is a good time for snow and also for stars.

Susan Marie Swanson's book "The House in the Night" was the 2009 Caldecott Award winner. She lives in St. Paul.