“Over the river and through the woods,” Hannah sang as she brushed her steamy breath off the car window.

Shut up, Hannah, I wanted to say. But if I did, Dad would have something to say to me.

“The horse knows the way,” Hannah continued.

“Are you calling me a horse?” Dad asked.

Hannah giggled. Ever since we left home she’d been singing her cheery little Christmas songs. I wasn’t in the mood for Christmas—not this year. Not when we were spending it at Grandma and Grandpa Watkins’ house.

“Look, Mommy!” Hannah shrieked. “Mitford snowmen.”

Last night Mom had read to us the story about the Mitford snowmen.

“Maybe they’re having a contest like they did in Mitford,” Mom suggested. “There’s one in every yard and each snowman is different.”

“This isn’t Mitford,” I growled, giving Hannah a poke in the ribs. I stopped pouting long enough to glance at the snowmen.

Mom turned around as far as she could without unbuckling her seatbelt. “Emily, what’s wrong with you? You’ve been a real grump since we left home.”

“I’ll tell you what’s wrong,” I shouted. “We’re going to the wrong Grandma’s. All Grandma Watkins gives us for Christmas is her homemade sweaters and mittens and stuff. And there’s totally nothing to do at her house.”

“That’s enough,” Dad said. I knew he meant it.

I slumped back down in my seat. There was nothing more to say.

Soon we reached the farm and Grandma met us at the back door. My grump began to melt away when she gave me a big soft hug. Also, I’d forgotten how good her house smelled, especially at Christmas time.

She’d been cooking and baking. I wondered if she’d made my favorite cookies again this year. They weren’t exactly Christmas cookies, but some kind of brownie with a secret ingredient that made them special.

While Dad brought our things in from the car, Hannah and I ran to the living room to check out the Christmas tree. Grandpa threw another log into the fireplace. He came over to give us each a hug. Another hunk of my grump hopped right off my shoulder and into the fire.

“Grandma Kelly lives in ’partment so she has a little tree,” Hannah told Grandpa.

“Does she now? We have a big house and I cut this big tree yesterday—just for you, Punkin.”

Hannah giggled. “Grandpa! I’m not Punkin, I’m Hannah.”

“So you are.” Grandpa gave her another hug. “What do you think, Emily? Like the tree?”

I nodded, suddenly feeling ashamed about the way I’d acted in the car. If only it weren’t for the presents. Grandma Kelly lives in the city and gives us lots of good stuff.

After lunch Mom went upstairs to unpack. Hannah tagged along after her. Dad and Grandpa settled down in front of the fireplace. Soon they began to snore. I hung around the kitchen with Grandma, glancing over all her Christmas goodies.

Grandma said, “I haven’t made your cookies yet, Emily. I thought you might like to help me and learn to do it yourself.”

I wrapped Grandma’s big apron around me while she put everything we’d need on the table. While we worked, she said, “This year we have plenty of snow. Tomorrow afternoon Grandpa will get out the sleigh and we’ll all take a ride in the fields. Would you like that?”

I knew I would. I thought about Hannah’s Christmas songs and the snowmen in front of the houses. Each snowman was different, just like Mom said. Grandmas are different, too. Grandma Kelly is a shopping Grandma. But Grandma Watkins is a cooking and knitting Grandma. At last I figured it out. Grandma Watkins’ secret ingredient is love. She put love into the cookies she backed. She put love into the sweaters she knit for me.

My grump completely, totally disappeared.