Untangling Christmas by Jean Little Page A

believe we ourselves will be a poor family without my big sisters. When Jemma was alive, she and Jo always made the holiday so jolly.
    I know. We have
you
now to help cheer us up. But one baby, however dear, cannot take the place of two big girls. Theo has his dog to help keep his mind occupied, at least.
    I wonder if Jo still misses Mother the way I miss Jemma. I remember Mother, of course, but not clearly. Seven years is a long time. I know her favourite carol was “O, come all ye faithful.”
    There is something else wrong, Ben. Fanny seems almost like a stranger these days. I used to know her every thought, but then the Gibsons moved here and Connie and Fan have grown thick as thieves. I try tobe polite but I can’t think why Fan likes her. She never passes a mirror without stopping to gaze at herself.
    Oh, I cannot write any more today.
    Tuesday, December 7, 1920
    Dear Ben,
    It is almost bedtime and dark out, but Fanny has gone for a walk with her Bosom Friend Constance. They giggle all the time and lean close to whisper secrets, mostly about boys. And they try so hard to be stylish.
    Am I jealous, Ben? I never was before. We shared everything, even our friends.
    I am tired and I would like to go to bed, but I can’t sleep while Fan is out. Aunt says that is foolish. I told her it is because Fan and I are twins, but she reminded me that she and my mother were twins too. I hardly ever think of them that way.
    Fan called back over her shoulder to say I should come too. She knows I feel left out but she also knows I think Con is silly. I did not tell her but she knows. When I said I was busy, Connie snickered.
    Anyway, Ben, two is company. Three is a crowd.
    Aunt made Christmas pudding today. The whole house smelled lovely. So rich and fruity. I kept licking my lips.
    There, I am supposed to put Christmassy things in this book for you, and now I have.
    Theo wants me to check the spelling on his Christmas list. I told him Santa Claus did not mind spelling mistakes, but your brother does not want to take a chance. This book will get better soon, Ben. I promise. At least I got the smell of the pudding in.
    Wednesday, December 8, 1920
    Dear Ben,
    Aunt decided I looked peaked at breakfast and kept me home from school. Fanny was outraged, which pleased me. I am sitting on the couch to write this and you are sitting in your playpen right in front of me. You keep finding toys to throw at me but I am pretending to be so busy writing in your book and reading the paper that I don’t notice.
    The paper tells about all the men out of work right now, thousands of them in Toronto alone. There is going to be a big march tomorrow. It is terrible that men came home from the War to find no jobs waiting.
    Aunt just took you away for your nap. Maybe I’ll have one too.
    Same day, afternoon
    I wonder, Ben, if you like Fanny better than me.
    I did not mean to write that, but it is true. I don’tmean you hate me, but babies don’t hide their feelings, and you grin and wave your hands whenever she looks your way. I just know “Fan” will be your first word. If she were here, she would take you out of your cage and play with you, but she is not home yet, so you must put up with me. I wonder if writing to you this way will help us get to know each other better.
    We just took a break for milk and cookies. It is lucky that I like rusks. Not slobbered on, though. I am sorry I would not take the bite you offered me, but it was disgusting.
    All right. I will stop writing and show you the pictures of toys in the Eaton’s catalogue — after I wipe that mush off your face.
    Thursday, December 9, 1920
    The newspaper said that those men did march yesterday, Ben. Hundreds of them.
    Cooking Break.
    Fanny called me to come and make fudge. It was so nice doing it together. You loved the “soft balls” we gave you. My arm aches from beating that bowl of fudge, but it was worth it. We made lots. Yum!
    Now Aunt is putting you to bed. Sleep well, little