A flurry of events. A wagon load of relatives. I often wonder how the children see the holidays. They must think that cousins, aunts, and uncles are as plentiful as the avocados and mandarine oranges on our trees this time of year. The children understand now that Christmas involves presents, but their enjoyment of their gifts was so childishly simple, so easily contented, so inclusive of others, that the toys were like a side dish to a meal and not the roast beef itself. They have understood gifts, though, as something to give to others. Since Christmas I have received numerous "gifts" wrapped in Lee's fuzzy blanket: a tin teacup, a wooden carrot, a cow. But they would sooner remember the donut shop than the toys in those packages on Christmas day. And Lee still points out the place where his foot got stuck in the mud after the rain. The beach, with its gritty sand and deep trench built by Phil, is as magical to them as the Santa Ana Zoo.