Ernest hadn't been planning on going anywhere, but Jack had simply insisted that they went down to the large tree. As if he just knew- his son went running in front of him, looking about in the pile of presents to see what was for him.
He ripped open the paper, and ran up to his father, holding his present high above his head, making engine noises.
"Oh, it's your very own toy plane!" he exclaimed, laughing as his son ran off, circling the tree with his plane held above his head, "flying".
And then he spotted his own present. An envelope with his name- and he reached out to open it, his laughter growing more hysterical as he realised what was inside. It was a photograph from a Christmas past, a momento of his lovely son- another reminder of his real reason to stick around. His chubby little happy face.
As Jack made his way around the tree again, Ernest grabbed ahold of him, raise him into the air, and spun him round, the boy squealing with delight and holding his plane out to fly.