Disclaimer: I don't own Smallville or these characters.

Author's Note: I love Little Clark!

Christmas was coming, and three-year-old Clark Kent, whose origins were still unknown to his adoptive parents after they came across him in a cornfield during the recent meteor shower, couldn't understand why his parents were so happy.

Maamaa and Daadaa just seemed to be in more cheerful moods, but they were also acting a bit peculiar. For some strange reason, Daadaa had climbed a ladder last week and had started hanging lights on the outside of the house. After Clark asked his adoptive father why, Maamaa and Daadaa had collected Clark, put him in their truck, and driven around town to look at the lights on everybody else's houses. Clark was more confused than ever. Why was everybody hanging up colorful lights everywhere?

Then one day, Daadaa had gone completely crazy. He had chopped down a tree and put it up INSIDE THE HOUSE!

But Maamaa was smiling and happy. As Daadaa put the tree up in the living room, Maamaa wept with joy and gave Daadaa a sweet kiss. "Clark's first Christmas!" she exclaimed.

"Maamaa…Maamaa…why?" little Clark asked his mother, his eyes wet with tears. "Why tree?"

Martha Kent looked at her tiny son, his face a beacon of confusion. She laughed and lifted him up in her arms. "Clark, honey, it's Christmas!" she exclaimed. "Daadaa and I have told you. It's a special day when we sit around the tree and drink hot chocolate and open presents-"

"What peasants?" Clark asked.

"Presents, Clark," his father corrected him. "New toys you get from Maamaa and Daadaa!" Jonathan and Martha Kent agreed long ago not to even mention Santa Claus until Clark was a little older; this was Clark's first Christmas, their little adopted boy couldn't understand, and they didn't want to confuse him any more than he was already.

"Honey, maybe we can give him an example of a present," Martha smiled. "You know that special trunk of toys you're saving for Clark?"

"No, Martha," Jonathan said seriously. "Those toys are very special, and Clark isn't old enough!"

"You haven't played with them since you were thirteen, Jonathan!"

"A boy's childhood obsessions are not something easily given up," Jonathan pouted. "Clark's way too little to understand the Dukes."

"He'll get a kick out of the car, sweetheart."

Finally, Jonathan sighed. He reached over to his wife and ran a hand through his son's hair. "Sit tight, son," he told Clark. "Daadaa will be back with a present."

Daadaa was up in the attic for a long time. While he was up there, Maamaa picked up some colored balls and started hanging them up on the tree. "Decorating the tree, Clark, was always my favorite part of Christmas." She handed a colored ball with a metal hook on the end to her son. "Here. Hang it on one of the tree's branches." Martha demonstrated with the ball in her hand.

Clark hung the metal hook on a low branch. "Look, Maamaa! Clark tree!"

"Yes, Clark's decorating the tree very nicely!"

"Present time, Clark!" Daadaa reappeared in the living room with a box wrapped in red and green wrapping paper, and handed the box to his son. "Here's a present for you, Clark. Unwrap the box and see what's inside."

Clark sat down on the living room floor with his present. For a couple of minutes, he just stared, not knowing what to do with it. Finally, he picked up the box and held it in his hands.

"Unwrap it, Clark," Martha Kent said gently. She sat down beside her son and began to tear the wrapping paper off of the box. "Look, sweetie. It comes off. Rip it off!"

Clark smiled happily. What Maamaa was doing looked fun. He excitedly tore the rest of the wrapping paper off of the box, and the lid fell off in the mayhem. Clark lifted a toy car out of the box; it was orange with some kind of a flag on top. On the sides was some lettering that Clark couldn't read.

"This, son, is the General Lee. The Dukes' car," Jonathan Kent smiled to his son, patting Clark on the shoulder. "My favorite toy when I was a kid. Your Uncle Jack and I used to pretend that we were Luke and Bo." Uncle Jack was Jack Jennings, Jonathan's childhood friend, who had spent Thanksgiving with the Kents.

Clark rolled the General Lee along the living room floor. "Clark like," he told his father happily.

"Now, Clark, the General Lee moves faster than that," Jonathan told his son. "Here, let Daadaa try!"

Martha just smiled and continued to hang up tree ornaments. Boys, she thought.