The Lyselle Manor was bathed in soft morning light, the snow outside glittering like tiny diamonds. The scent of cinnamon and freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air, mingling with the faint hum of holiday tunes playing from the living room. It should have been the picture of serene domestic bliss except, of course, for the chaos that was a five-year-old on Christmas morning.
"Mama! Mommy!" Lila's voice rang out like a trumpet blast, far louder than necessary for such an early hour. The tiny whirlwind bounded into the master bedroom, her dark curls wild and her face alight with excitement. She clutched a plush rocket ship in one hand and an astronaut helmet in the other.
Amara groaned, burying her face deeper into the pillow. "Why does she wake up with the energy of a nuclear reactor?"