44. We’re Asking For Gifts, Not Miracles
The OP’s Christmas wish is simple yet as elusive as Santa on Christmas Eve: a morning of uninterrupted Z’s beyond the dawn chorus. The scene is a festive tableau of parental exhaustion, where the tree stands guard, the presents lie in wait, and the only creature stirring is a wide-awake tot with energy to burn.

It’s a silent night’s dream dashed by the pitter-patter of little feet before the rooster even considers his first crow. The wish for sleep is the grown-up equivalent of longing for a unicorn under the tree—magical, mythical, and just out of reach. Here’s to hoping that Santa grants the OP some well-deserved slumber, or at least a coffee maker with a silent alarm!