The Great Cocoa Spill

Pep Peppermint had been trusted with an important delivery: one enormous jug of cocoa for the workshop's afternoon break.

“Carry it with both hands,” said Mrs. Claus.

“I have two,” Pep assured her.

“Walk slowly.”

“I know several slow walks.”

“And please don't practice your radio announcements while carrying it.”

Pep looked offended. “I am a professional.”

He made it all the way to the workshop door.

Then he saw Bram wearing a paper crown shaped like a turnip.

“North Pole listeners,” Pep whispered, “we have breaking vegetable news.”

His elbow nudged the door.

The door nudged the jug.

The jug tipped.

Cocoa spread across the empty wooden table in a magnificent brown wave.

Pep froze.

Bram looked at the table.

Then at Pep.

Then at the little cocoa puddle collecting inside his paper crown.

“I see refreshments have arrived.”

“Mostly,” Pep said.

The workshop elves moved the nearby craft supplies out of the way. Bram set a chair in front of the wet patch on the floor so nobody would walk through it.

Pep fetched towels.

That should have been the end of the excitement.

It was not.

Oren reached for a clean cloth, caught the edge of a ribbon spool, and sent it rolling across the dry end of the table. The ribbon unwound behind it like a red carpet.

“Royal entrance,” Bram said, pointing at his crown.

Tansy caught the spool before it reached the cocoa.

Pep hurried back with a stack of towels so tall he could only see sideways.

“Where should these—”

“Stop,” everyone said.

He stopped.

A spoon dropped from the towel stack.

Then another.

Then a small potato.

There was a silence.

“Why have you brought a potato?” asked Bram.

“I took everything beside the towels.”

From the doorway, Mrs. Claus said, “That explains where my potato went.”

She surveyed the table, the ribbons, and Bram's soggy crown.

“Ah.”

“It was an accident,” Pep said. “I can help clean it.”

“I can see you already are.”

Together they soaked up the cocoa. Tansy wiped the legs of the table. Oren dried the floor. Bram removed his crown and set it beside the window.

Mrs. Claus brought a smaller jug on a tray.

This time Pep carried the empty cups.

He did not announce anything.

He did not even whisper about turnips.

At last, everyone sat down with warm cocoa.

But something was missing.

“The marshmallows,” Mrs. Claus said.

Pep lifted one finger.

“I will retrieve them.”

He walked slowly to the bakery and returned with the marshmallow tin tucked securely beneath his arm.

Bram opened it.

Inside was a very surprised-looking knitted mouse.

They all stared.

Pep closed his eyes.

“I may have taken the wrong tin.”

Mrs. Claus began to laugh. Oren laughed so hard his cocoa made a tiny wave. Tansy moved his cup away from the edge.

The knitted mouse belonged to Mrs. Claus's sewing basket. Its marshmallow-shaped ears were quite convincing.

Pep brought the correct tin.

Everyone received three marshmallows, except Bram, who requested four because his crown had suffered greatly.

That evening, Pep recorded a short radio announcement.

“Today's workshop break featured cocoa, a royal turnip, and one unexpected mouse. No craft kits were harmed. The potato has returned safely to the bakery.”

At the next table, Bram wore a fresh paper crown.

This one was shaped like a mug.

Pep leaned toward his microphone.

Then, very carefully, he moved his own cocoa farther away.