This upright glowing slug-creature-thing lives just outside the entrance to the sleeping chamber of Mabel Watson Payne. I carried it partly shielded in my hand a couple of times tonight when I parted the felt curtains and entered the chamber to investigate small murmurings and cheeps being made by this semi-sleeping baby. A little patting sent her back into a doze. We did some rocking and some humming on one occasion before returning her to her peaceful bed.
Having left her first-ever note for Santa, along with a plate of treats, it seems inevitable that Mabel Watson Payne would be experiencing a bit of extra excitement.
She and her parents all hung their stockings with care near the base of the family's tinfoil tabletop tree. All three stockings are empty tonight but not likely to be empty in the morning.
