It was so strange, having the magi in our home. I had grown used to strange things, or at least as much as I could have. The same strange thing rarely happens twice, so it's rather hard to grow accustomed to.

But here they were, bowing before my little son, and presenting him with gifts meant for a king.

Jesus was just beginning to walk, and he did it with a confidence far beyond his skill. So, when he stood up to go investigate these curious men, he promptly overbalanced and fell to his bottom. Undeterred, he pushed himself up and tried again. When he got close enough, he sat down right next to the gold box and began inspecting it, entranced. The magi chuckled, and we all watched, amused, as he played with the shiny box.

I knew that my son was the Messiah, his coming foretold for thousands of years, and that he was going to redeem the world. I knew that through him, incredible things would happen. And I knew that he would have to endure terrible suffering.

Someday, he would lead people to salvation, and they will love and adore him. They will call him Lord and Emmanuel, and sing his name in praises. They will worship him for thousands of years to come.

But right now, for these few short years, he is my precious, unbalanced little boy, fascinated with a shiny golden box.

A/N: A church near my hometown always puts on a massive Christmas stage production. My parents and I go every year, and on we did on Sunday night. So during the manger scene, the baby playing Jesus was getting a little fussy, and Mary picked up the gold box from the magi to distract him. It totally worked, he was completely fascinated by it and was distracted long enough for the song to finish. And I got to thinking about what it might have looked like, the day the magi presented a toddler with shiny gifts. Because every toddler thinks shiny things are fun.