Christmas Eve Eve is a special time up here at the North Pole.
The Clauses along with the elves have been busy assembling toys and packaging gifts over the past year. The children’s letters filled with hopes and dreams have been read and answered, the sleigh has been polished and loaded, and NORAD has been contacted and supplied with flight plans. The big fay is soon upon us.
What to do in these last hours before the big show? Well, if you are like many of us here in the human world, you are still scrambling to put last-minute labels on those last-minute, hurriedly wrapped gifts that you found at CVS. Or else you are at yet another holiday party, or you are going to bed early since you know how hectic the next couple of days are going to be, or you and your siblings are already bouncing off the walls in anticipation of the joyous chaos of Christmas morning under the tree.
Up here at Santa’s North Pole headquarters, Mrs. Claus has been busy in the kitchen deciding what snacks to pack for Santa’s around-the-world journey. “You’ve got to eat, Santa. You don’t have time to stop and pick up something at a fast food place.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Santa says. “The milk and cookies left next to the trees will fill me up. I’ve got this.”
“That’s what worries me. You will fill up on sweets or you will chug that sugary soft drink that has been associated with you and your red suit since the 1930s. You will need more than sugar to survive. Remember your A1C levels. You will need to get some protein tomorrow night as well as some fruit and vegetables.”
Santa considers this advice and more importantly, considers that it is Mrs. Claus who is offering it. “Probably best not to argue,” he mumbles to himself as he takes the paper bag filled with nuts, an apple, carrot sticks and tofu chips.
“Also, I checked with the elves in the North Pole Weather Service (NPWS) and they say you will be flying through a wide range of temperatures, precipitation and winds. It’s going to be rough out there. Make sure you dress in layers.”
“Yes, Dear.”
Santa then leaves to check with the elven loading crew on the warehouse dock. He nods his head approvingly. He walks out to the reindeer corral for one last look. Checks Dancer’s hoofs, brushes Vixen’s coat, then scratches behind the ears of each of his dear reindeer.
Meanwhile, Mrs, Claus has been giving the red suit a final cleaning with a lint roller when she notices a loose button. She goes to her box of thread spools (mostly variations of red), finds a thick needle and gets to work. In the wink of an eye the errant button is once again secure. Just then Santa enters from the dark cold into the cozy cottage.
They look at each other and offer tired smiles. “Looks like things are as ready as they will ever be,” they agree. The two let out simultaneous sighs as they head for their rocking chairs in front of the fireplace. Now it is time to take a breath and let things be what they will be. Santa reaches for the thick, well-worn book that lies on the table between them. He opens it and, as he does every Christmas Eve Eve, begins to read:
“In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world …”
Norman Knight, a retired Clark-Pleasant Middle School teacher, writes this weekly column for the Daily Journal. Send comments to [email protected].
