Santa's Very Bad Day

Santa’s day began with a cold toe.

His boot had sprung a leak.

Then his toast landed jam-side down.

Then a cat fell asleep on the delivery plans.

“Excuse me,” Santa told the cat.

The cat did not consider that a convincing argument.

At the workshop, the bell rang six times. Three elves had questions. Someone had misplaced a crate. A glitter jar tipped over.

Santa answered one question too sharply.

The room went quiet.

He felt hot in his cheeks. Everything seemed too loud, too close and much too glittery.

“I’m sorry,” he told the elf. “That came out sharply. You asked a reasonable question.”

He looked around.

“I need a little break.”

Santa took his cocoa to a quiet bench and sat down. He loosened his wet boot. He drank slowly. He did not solve any Christmas problems for several minutes.

Mrs. Claus came by.

“Would you like company or quiet?”

“Quiet first,” Santa said. “Then perhaps help with the cat.”

When he returned, the glitter was still on the floor. The crate was still missing. A break had not magically finished his work.

But Santa could hear one question at a time.

He asked an elf to handle the bell. He put on dry socks. He checked in with the elf he had spoken sharply to.

“I’m ready to listen properly now.”

They worked out the problem together.

By evening, the crate had been found under a table. The glitter had mostly been swept up. The cat had moved to a warmer and even less convenient pile of papers.

“Was it a good day?” Mrs. Claus asked.

“Parts of it were dreadful,” Santa admitted.

“And now?”

“Now my toes are dry.”

That was not everything.

But it was a very good start.