Morning light spills through the window. Sienna leaps out of bed and runs downstairs.
She tugs her mum's sleeve. "Presents!" she says, pointing at the tree with its red and gold baubles.
Her mum is tying her scarf. Her dad is shuffling socks by the fire. Her nan is humming in the kitchen. Everyone is busy.
Sienna stands in the middle of the hall and bounces on her toes. Nobody notices.
Sienna sits on the bottom stair and picks at a loose thread on her sock. The house is full of noise, but she is too quiet to be heard.
Then — the front door bursts open. Snow flies in on the wind.
Her nan and grandpa stumble in, their coats dusted with snow. They carry a small plate with a tiny cake — one candle flickering on top.
"Happy first birthday, Sienna!" they sing, and the whole family swarms over, clapping and cheering.
Sienna's eyes go wide. Everyone gathers around her, singing and clapping.
She laughs and claps her hands. The candle goes out with a puff of smoke.
The room fills with the sweet smell of cake and the sound of a family celebrating her.
Sienna is covered in flour and joy.