Growing Up A Superhero (11)
"Mom! Dad! Wake up! It's Christmas!" shouted two tiny voices as equally small fists pounded the covers. Jean groaned to a chorus of laughter, then got a faceful of slobber. Her eyes snapped open and she pulled back, glaring at the beast. "Chiya!" she shouted, fully awake. "Get Lion out of our room!" Nine-year-old Chiya, adopted three years before, giggled hilariously in her singsong way and grabbed the scruff of Lion's mane, hauling the beast away. Sometimes Jean wondered at the sanity of owning a wild beast like that. Especially when it woke her up in the morning with its tongue. Jean sighed heavily and sat up, the late night of before telling on her. "Scott," she said, rubbing her eyes, "if I have to function you do too." Scott moaned and looked up at her from where he had buried his head under his pillow. "Send Apocalypse. Magneto. The Marauders, Mr. Sinister and the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants any day," he muttered blearily, "but not four-year-olds on Christmas morning." Jean laughed and picked up her pillow, hitting him with it. Scott grinned, catching it with one large hand. He glanced toward the end of the bed, checking for children running about. Seeing none, he tossed the pillow to one side and reached for his wife, pulling her down beside him. "DAAAAAAD!" a young female voice said just then. "That's GROSS!" Scott sighed and looked down at his youngest daughter. Her freckled face glared up at him accusingly, fists planted firmly on her hips. Scooby-Doo looked balefully at Cyclops from her nightshirt, his ears hidden by the wearer's strawberry blond ringlets. "Sorry, Brij," Scott said, twisting to wrap one massive arm around her and pull her up into the bed with him. "But I like kissing the women in my life!" The four-year-old screeched, giggling, as Scott proceeded to tickle her, all under the guise of kissing her stomach. "Eeeeep!" came a chirp from the doorway. Chiya stood there, a seeming thundercloud over her head of golden curls. Unable to speak, her hands cut the air viscously as she signed her frustration, #Come on! I got Tommy up, and there are presents out there!# Behind her, the twenty-year-old Tommy leaned against the wall, his eyes closed as he tried to catch up on sleep while standing. Chiya turned, looked at him half-asleep, and sighed heavily. Tommy cracked one blue eye down at his little brother, Cody, as the boy tugged on his sweatpants. "Tommy?" Cody asked softly, smiling at his twin Brigette as he did so, "will you make us potato pancakes while we open presents?" Tommy muttered something completely incoherent and stumbled down the hall, his black hair falling in unruly waves into his face. "Now everyone's up. Will you come so we can open presents?" Cody asked pleadingly. Scott sighed melodramatically, picking Brigette up and getting out of bed. Jean followed him, grabbing her bathrobe on the way to the door. Brigette squealed happily as Scott set her down, and she bolted for the family room and Christmas tree.
***
Jean looked at the mess an hour later, as they all sat eating potato pancakes. Weeks to find all those presents, days to wrap them, and only minutes for it all to be undone and scattered about the floor. Tommy lay on the carpet, resting against Lion's back and inspecting the long, pipe-like instrument they had bought him. No one could pronounce its name, and no one was sure how to play it. It would occupy him for hours. Lion chewed on a massive rawhide bone, that no doubt would be gone shortly. Chiya played with her new Barbie And Ken's Wild Animal Zoo set, complete with three types of animals and several large corrals and animal stations, while Cody lay on his stomach munching pancakes and putting together a puzzle. Brigette sat on the floor quietly, watching the twitch of Lion's tail. Jean and Scott were on the couch, Jean resting against her husband's chest. "Brij?" she asked cautiously, "what's wrong?" Brigette shrugged slightly. "Nothin'." Jean and Scott exchanged looks. This was undoubtedly bad. "Honey, tell us," Scott said in his most sincere voice. Brigette sniffed as she looked up at them. "I didn't get the stuffed griffin I wanted." Scott shot a mental question at Jean, and was quickly answered. She saw one in the store months ago. Plush, but mechanical. One of those things that you can talk to and it'll talk back, only it was better then most of them. But it was two hundred dollars, and we've got four kids we're shopping for. . . . Scott nodded mentally, and smiled at Brigette. "But you got all those other cool things from Santa," he said, pointing to a train set she'd been ogling earlier. "But I didn't want those. I wanted the griffin," she said, and suddenly there were tears. "Oh, honey," Scott said, sitting Jean up and hurrying to his baby's side. "I know. But you got these other neat things and--" "But Santa was going to get it for me!" Brigette wailed. "Hey, Brij," Tommy said quickly, coming over. "You want to play with my new whatchamacallit?" He handed her the pipe-thing, smiling. "No!" she wailed, ignoring Jean as she came over and hugged the girl. "I really, really wanted the griffin! I was going to keep him forever!" The morning passed in slow motion. They were unable to console Brigette, who said she had wanted the griffin more than anything, ever, and thought Santa would bring it. Chiya commented that maybe one of the X-Men had gotten it for her, which calmed her for a little while. When they went up to the mansion and there was no Gary Griffin, however, the pitiful sobs only started once more. "We've got to get one of those things," Scott hissed to Jean as they stood in the mansion kitchen, while Rogue, Ororo, and Logan tried to calm Brigette. "I just called everywhere," Jean answered forlornly. "No one is even open. The collectors in the phone book I called at home said that it was the hot toy of the season. Nobody has them." Scott leaned out of the kitchen, peering around the door to where Brigette sat, surrounded by people. The wailing had stopped, but tears still streamed down her tiny face. "Lord," Betsy said, coming in for a glass of water. "If I had known she wanted it that much I'd have gotten it for her!" Scott sighed forlornly. "What time are my grandparents getting here?" he asked, glancing at the calendar. Maybe Brigette would calm down before they got there. . . . "Two hours," Jean answered, massaging her temples. "Hey," she said suddenly, looking up. "Maybe they have one!" "Call them!" Scott yelped.
***
"What was that about, Deb?" Philip Summers asked curiously as his wife hung up the cellular phone. "We have to stop at some toy stores," she answered quickly. "Jean says that Brigette wanted a toy--something called Gary Griffin--and they were hoping we had it. We'll get it before we go. Brigette's been crying all morning." Philip frowned, then turned the car off the freeway. "You're right. We'll get that doll."
***
Philip and Deborah Summers, Scott's grandparents, were two hours late. Brigette was still crying in the den, though silently. Jessie Drake, the Iceman's three-year-old daughter, and Cody sat with her, looking at one another sadly across the inconsolable Brigette. Jean looked harried, frazzled, and was generally a wreck. "Deborah, Philip," she said slightly wildly as they came in the door. "So good to see you." In the forefront of her mind however, was that they had to go to her parents' house the next day, and they couldn't get Brigette to stop sobbing. "We have a surprise," Deborah said, barely suppressing a grin. "Brigette! Santa left something for you at our house!" At Jean's confused expression, Deborah smiled and winked. Brigette came, sniffling, out of the den with the other children trailing her. The X-Men looked around the corner, others of them coming into the hall to see what was going on. "That's for me?" Brigette asked, her lower lip trembling as she looked at the package wrapped in brown paper. Printed very neatly on the side was "To Brigette Summers" and her great-grandparents address. "Yes. We think Santa got your address mixed up with ours," Philip said, pushing the package toward her. Still on the verge of tears, Brigette opened the gift. Her entire face lit up, breaking into a giant grin. "It's Gary Griffin!" she shouted happily, pulling the thing out of the box and hugging it tightly. "Santa didn't forget me!" Grinning from ear to ear, she turned and ran out of the room, shouting that she had to go show Logan. Jean turned and looked at the Summers' in shock. "All the stores are closed today. How did you do that?" Deborah smiled slightly, looking up at her husband. "Well," he said as the other kids left, "there was a listing for a woman who sold collectibles, and it was based out of her home. . . ." "Collectibles?" Scott said. "Aren't those expensive?" Deborah smiled ruefully. "Hmmm. Four hundred dollars later, Brigette has her toy." Scott stood, gaping open mouthed at the doorway Brigette had disappeared through. Slowly he turned, looking back at his family. "I love you so much," he said at last, relief in every line of his body. They laughed and Deborah stepped forward to give her grandson a giant hug. "What are great-grandparents for?"
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Back to the living room -
A Very Unmerry Christmas 1/1
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