A Children's Christmas Story
By: R. Bossart
 
We all know that Santa is a careful old elf when it comes to delivering
presents on Christmas Eve.  The legend is that he waits until everyone is
sound asleep before quietly coming down the chimney with his bag of toys.
As a young child I often wondered and worried just how Santa would know
when I finally fell into an excited sleep, and how Santa could possibly get
into our little home which had no chimney at all.  I used to beg my father
to make sure that he left at least one door unlocked.
 
"Would one Christmas I'd awake and find nothing under our carefully trimmed
tree; the plate of cookies uneaten; the glass still full of milk, just
because someone had forgotten and locked the house up tight?"  Yet every
Christmas I'd bound out of my warm bed and race to the living room.  There,
surrounding the tree would be the proof that I, indeed had been a good
enough child to receive all of the toys a child could possibly dream of.
Santa had worked his miracle again.
 
As I grew older the questions of Santa's comings and goings fled further
and further from my mind.  Soon I had children of my own with their own
special Christmas dreams.  Our home, like the one I grew up in, had no
chimney either.  It was my duty, while my children carefully prepared the
plate of the finest cookies and the freshest milk, was to check the door
to make sure it was unlocked so that Santa could enter that night.  It was
a task I performed faithfully, that is faithfully until that one Christmas
I simply forgot.
 
I know you'll ask, "How could you be so careless?" "How could you possibly
forget something so important?"  Maybe it was just that my mind was filled
with too many unimportant things like money and bills that needed paying,
or my car that needed fixing; I just don't know, but forget I did.
 
I had gone to bed that night, long after the children were asleep, thinking
that there was something I had forgotten to do.  Just what that was managed
to escape me until much after I had fallen asleep.  That forgotten task
must have nagged at me for hours, until it burst upon my sleeping mind.  I
awoke and sat bolt upright in my bed.  "The door!" I thought, "I forgot to
unlock the door!"  My wife, still sound asleep beside me hardly stirred as
I crept as quietly as I could out of the bed.  The floor was cold on my
feet, but I didn't pause to put on my slippers.  I just hoped I wasn't too
late.  I didn't want my children to suffer because of my forgetfulness.
 
I tried to be as quiet as I possibly could as I tiptoed into the living
room, lit by the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree, left on in Santa's
honor.  "Oh, I hope I'm not too late," I worried as I steps through the
living room and rounded the corner to the kitchen, to the locked back door.
 
What happened next was something amazing; something I'll never forget as
long as I live; something that no one else would ever believe.  As I
rounded that corner, I heard the faintest of sounds.  It was the tinkling
of bells and the faintest sounds of sleigh runners lightly touching down on
my roof.  Oh my, I was too late and to make matters worse, if Santa found
me awake he'd not even try the door.
 
I spun around and around.  Where to go?  What should I do?  If I unlocked
the door, he'd hear the latch click.  Could I make it back to my bed?  It
was then that I saw out of the corner of my eye something move on the other
side of the living room.  "Oh no!" I thought.  Maybe I had left the front
door open after all and Santa is in the house right now.  If he sees me
here he'll leave in a flash."  I quickly hid behind the drapes where not
even my toes could be seen.  Then curiosity got the better of me.  I
carefully peered around the edge of the drape hoping that the corner I was
in was dark enough so I couldn't be seen.
 
At first I didn't see anything unusual.  Maybe I was expecting to see Santa
standing there.  Then a movement caught my eye.  There on the floor,
standing near the back of the tree was a little ferret, the color of the
whitest snow.  He was standing on his hind legs, stretching up to admire
the glittering tree through his beautiful pink eyes.  He had a bright red
collar around his neck, with the tiniest of silver bells hanging from it.
Most amazing of all, perched on his head was a fluffy red cap with a tassel
on the end as white as his fur.  Looking carefully I could see that the
bottom of the cap was also trimmed in white; both the fur and the trim was
so white that it was hard to see where the cap ended and his fur began.  I
very quickly decided that this was no ordinary ferret.  How he got in, I
had no idea.  (Later, I learned that ferrets could go almost anywhere they
wanted, no matter how well it was locked, for ferrets are really magical
creatures by nature, especially so on Christmas Eve.)
 
With these thought still spinning in my head, I hardly noticed the little
ferret drop down onto all fours.  It was when he began hoping across the
living room toward the children's bedroom that I made up my mind to follow.
He was as quiet as a feather on air.  Even his bell was silent as he moved
in tiny bounces across the floor and up the hallway.  I waited until the
ferret slipped into the bedroom, then as quietly as I could, I tiptoed to
the bedroom door.  The room was very dark, and if it weren't for the fact
that the ferret's fur was so white that it almost glowed, I might not have
seen him climb the bedcovers and quietly check each of my children.
Seemingly satisfied that they were asleep, he scooted himself partway down
the bed covers, then fell the rest of the way to the floor with a soft
thump.  I almost gave myself away at that point with a giggle, as I saw the
ferret leap and bound, his head twisting from side to side, his mouth open
in a nearly unheard "hiss" as if blaming someone for pushing him off the
bed.  His dignity satisfied, he quickly turned to the bedroom door, as I
even more quickly stole away to my hiding place behind the drape.
 
On silent footpads he raced over to the front door.  There he scooted a
nearby stand across the floor so as to set it just in front of the door;
then, placed a small box in front of the stand.  With two hops he was at
the door turning the lock with his front paws.  I heard the lock click,
followed by what sounded like a small ferret chuckle.  As quickly as he
climbed up his makeshift ladder, he was down again, moving the box and
stand back to their original places.
 
Then wonder of wonders, the front door slowly opened.  A head, adorned with
a great white beard and a cap that was but larger version of the one worn
by the ferret, peeked in, followed by the rest of Santa himself.  His sack
hardly fit through the door.  My children had obviously been good that
year, for he quickly emptied the contents of his sack neatly around the
tree.  He paused only long enough to eat the cookies with obvious
enjoyment, leaving only one small piece; drank the milk with a smile, then
turned to the ferret who was politely tapping him on his foot to get his
attention.
 
Leaning over he offered the remaining piece of cookie to the waiting
ferret.  "Here you go, Berret.  You didn't think I'd forget you, did you?"
He chuckled just barely above a whisper.  "You're a wonderful little guy.
I don't know what I'd do without you."
 
With that he lifted the ferret onto his shoulder and turned to the door.
As he was leaving with Berret sitting proudly amongst the fur trim of
Santa's red suit, Berret turned and looked right at my hiding place.  I
swear he winked at me, then turned to nuzzle Santa's ear as Santa closed
the door behind them.
 
After all those years, I finally knew, and now you do too, how Santa can
tell when all the children are sound asleep; and that as long as there are
ferrets, a forgotten lock can't keep Santa from doing what he loves best.
 
Merry Christmas.
[Posted in FML issue 2532]