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Sunday, September 23, 2012

North Pole Paperwork

public domain image from pdphoto.org


Mrs. Claus walked into Santa’s office just in time to see him slam his fist onto his desk  in frustration, sending the stack of papers in front of him scattering across the room.  She sat the tray of cocoa and cookies she had been carrying down and began to gather the strewn papers.

“Now Papa, that’s not exactly what I’d call the Christmas spirit,” Mrs. Claus said.

“It’s this jingle-jangle paperwork.  It was one thing to make my list and check it twice, but all of this?”  Santa waved his hand across his desk.  “FAA forms to obtain permission to enter restricted airspace, contract negotiations with the elves’ union,  requests for waivers to reproduce patented toys…I’m a toymaker, not a paper pusher.  Oh, and Mrs. Johnson has sent me a third letter asking for reimbursement for cleaning costs for sooty footprints on her new carpeting.  And she doesn‘t even have a fireplace…or children!  I swear, I think I‘d be better off shutting the whole operation down and we can retire to a condo in Boca Raton.”

Mrs. Claus just smiled, reached into the pocket of her apron, and pulled out a folded piece of paper.

“Perhaps you should read this before you start calling any realtors.”

Santa unfolded the paper to find himself staring at the shaky penmanship of a seven year old, scrawled in blue crayon.
Dear Santa,
       Hello.  How are you? I have been very very good this year.  This year for Christmas I don’t want any toys or books or clothes.  My daddy is a soldier, and I just want you to bring him home so I can hug him for Christmas.
                              Love,
                              Madison
Santa took a deep breath, exhaled, then wiped away a tear.

“You know, Mama, I would gladly give up every bit of magic I’ve ever had to not read another letter like that.  I guess sometimes it takes the innocence of a child to remind us all what Christmas is really about.”

Mrs. Claus leaned over and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, then squeezed his shoulder.

“Now go on and get out of here,” Santa said, motioning Mrs. Claus toward the office door.  “Christmas will be here before we know it, and these papers aren’t going to push themselves!”



~~~ This story was written for a prompt over at Flashy Fiction asking us to write a story about what Santa Claus is up to now (at the end of September.)

3 comments:

Mary said...

A heartbreaker, Mary!

Kay L. Davies said...

So sweet, Mary.
But I laughed at the last line "these papers aren't going to push themselves" — wonderful!
K

Haddock said...

Very touching.
Kids speak out the truth.