Stepping up for Santa

All Words: 1830

"Wake up! What's the matter with you, son? Wake up!"

"I can'd ged oud of bed. I hab a code."

"There's work to be done! Upsadaisy, Nick!"

"Don'd tage da bladkeds off lige dat. Id's code."

"Well, we're in the North Pole. What did you expect? Florida weather? And where's your tissue? Son, haven't I been telling you for seventy-five years to always keep your tissue in your pocket?"

Mrs. Claus clicked her tongue in exasperation. Her son had tucked the blankets cozily again, and wasn't listening to her. She continued talking nonetheless, to no one in particular. "Bless him, if he hasn't gone back to sleep! Ever since he was a wee lad, he would just go back to sleep. Well, well. I suppose I'll just have to get my ninety-six year old bones to work, so that Christmas isn't cancelled. Used to do it for his father Santa Claus XVIII, now I must do it for him, Santa Claus XIX. Bless his dear father, one of the most efficient Santas ever, he was, but did have his fits of absent-mindedness. This boy, on the other hand, just goes back to sleep, he does ..."

Shaking her head, she strode out of Santa's room. For those of you who aren't Santa Claus's Mom, let me tell you, it's a tough job, especially when it's Christmas Eve, and your son refuses to get going. The only thing you can do is to take over yourself.

Which is what Mrs. Claus did.

She began by searching for Santa's mobile phone. It always turned up in the most unexpected places. This time, she located it in the drawer marked 'scraps of wrapping paper too pretty to throw but too small to use'. Why hadn't that son of hers thought of using them as gift-tags, for goodness' sake? Anyway, the mobile.

"Hmmmm. Let me see. 'R--u--d'. No matches? Bless him, if he hasn't stored all of them under 'Reindeer'. It's a wonder I've learnt to use this gizmo and it's a miracle that I can find any of his contacts. Okay. 'Reindeer, Rudolph'. Hallo? Rudolph? Your boss has gone back to sleep, so we have to get this thing done ourselves. Just round up the others and get over here, pronto."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"I'll get Kiya Sama and "The WDC Angel Army"  to help load the sleigh. You don't need someone to actually steer, do you? Not that my son was ever very good at that anyway."

Rudolph permitted himself a small chuckle. "Doesn't have a very good sense of direction, does he?"

"He'd go up the chimney instead of down, if it weren't for gravity. Why didn't he inherit his dear father's sense of direction? My husband never got lost, not in any country anywhere. Remember the time my father-in-law took a left at the Equator, instead of a right?"

Rudolph chuckled again. "Santa XVII was always doing things like that. Anyway, Dancer realised it when we crossed the Himalayas the second time round, so we only lost five minutes."

"Every minute is precious when you have to deliver all those gifts. Why are you standing there talking about the Himalayas? Get moving, get the others and get here. I'll call Kiya."

"Are those folks real angels?" Rudolph had always wondered about this.

"Yup. Okay now, Rudolph, get the reindeer here ASAP. Bye bye for now. Hmmmm. 'Kiya'. Bless him, why can't he store numbers normally, like anyone else? Okay. 'WDC, Kiya'. Kiya? Can you grab some of your angels and help load the sleigh? No, no. He has gone back to sleep, so I am handling it, with Rudolph's help. What? What's that? Elle? I know, I know. She runs that Snail Mail thing of yours, at WDC. Probably has a better sense of direction than my son. Okay, yes, she can steer the sleigh tonight. I can't read the map too well, my glasses mist over. Elle doesn't wear glasses, does she? Contact lenses. Never understood the things, but as long as they don't mist over. Bring Elle. Bring them all. I'll make soup. Yes, I know StoryMistress is vegetarian, I'll make vegetable soup. Got some nice carrots from the Easter Bunny. Now don't stand there talking about soup, my dear girl. Everyone seems to want to stand around talking when there's work to be done. Grab your angels and get here, pip pip. Dress warm."

Mrs. Claus muttered under her breath as she chopped tomatoes, peeled potatoes, grated some special carrots and bunged in beets. "Nineteen, I was, when I married. Long brown beard my husband had then. He was nice and trim, too. My mother-in-law was so ashamed of that. A Claus, being thin! Used to feed him up every day. Four eggs for breakfast, and don't ask what else. I was not very good at cooking, back then. With three older sisters, I just never needed to cook a meal. My own Mamma had warned me -- if I married in to the Claus family, I'd have to spend time in the kitchen, I would. I sure did. She taught me, my mother-in-law, she taught me how to cook good and proper. We made sure, between us, that my husband had his tummy by the time he took over as Santa. Took me on the sleigh sometimes, he did. Managed to be romantic, too, between chimneys. Rudolph would chuckle and the rest of the reindeer would blush. Our reindeer have some unicorn blood in them, you know. They live forever. They tell stories of when Santa III gave Cinderella a nice, sensible pair of ballet shoes. I always thought that girl was weird, trying to dance in glass slippers. What was the Fairy Godmother thinking?"

When the soup was nicely boiling, she went to Santa's clothes-closet, rummaged a bit and found what she wanted. "Hmmmm. A tuck here, a fold there ..." She carried the suit to her room, got her sewing kit and went to work.

As she held the suit at arm's length to admire it, the doorbell rang. She had hardly turned the doorknob when the whole Angel Army was around her, laughing, hugging, yelling, "Merry Christmas!"

"Thanks for coming by! You're looking good, all of you!"

"You're looking great yourself, Ma Claus!" Kiya grinned back. "When did you change the colour of your hair?"

"I've wanted bubblegum pink hair ever since I read about Nymphadora Tonks having it."

"You're a Harry Potter fan?"

"The Claus family has to like everything that any kid likes," Mrs. Claus replied. "I like choo-trains and teddy bears and skateboards. Some of the new-fangled gadgets are a little hard to get used to, though. Ah. I remember when children used to ask for coal, to keep warm ..."

"Can we eat?" Sapph asked. "I smell soup!"

"Leave some for that son of mine!" she admonished. "Bless him, sleeping through all this shouting. A heavy sleeper, he is, not like his dear father. Prancer tells stories of when Santa V almost overslept and didn't deliver gifts. Santa V is the one who made it a Claus family tradition to sing Jingle Belly every Christmas. Former Santas and the current Santa competing for the cuddliest belly. What are all of you doing, talking of oversleeping and bellies? To the kitchen, now. There's whole-wheat bread on the shelf there and some cheese somewhere ..."

The angels nicely fed, they got to work checking the nice list and making sure all the gifts tallied up. The reindeer were at the door, the sleigh was being loaded. "Have you had something to eat?" Mrs. Claus asked Rudolph.

"We'll eat when we're done. You know we don't like to deliver gifts on a full tummy."

"Okay, while you're loading up, I'll get Elle to help me with the suit."

She steered Elle to the bedroom. Elle held the suit up for Mrs. Claus to try on. "Perfect," was the verdict.

As Elle was about to join the others, Mrs. Claus's manner suddenly became furtive.

"Er, Elle, my dear," she said.

"Yes?" Elle replied, surprised.

"I wonder if you could do me a tiny favour. I mean, I don't discount this big favour you're doing already, but another one."

"Sure, anything."

Mrs. Claus beckoned mysteriously. Elle followed, puzzled. They went to the big desk in the corner of the room, and Mrs. Claus opened the last drawer.

"The map, showing where we have to stop," she whispered. "I want you to add a house to it. I can't tell you to do that with the reindeer listening. If they catch on, they'll be telling my great-great-grandson's wife about how I broke the rules, a hundred years from now. That's the downside of having reindeer that live forever. I love them to pieces but they do carry stories for generations."

"Add a house to the map?"

"See, my great-nephew, Andrew, he got himself put on the naughty list this year. Got the pup to knock the tree down on purpose. But he'll be heartbroken if he doesn't get his bubblegum, and I'd bought it for him already. He'll know it's from me, it matches the colour of my hair. We'll be stopping next door, to deliver gifts to his neighbour, Steve. I'll pop down Andrew's chimney, too, and pop the bubblegum under his pillow. They won't have put a stocking for him. That's punishment enough. He's a good lad, just playful, sometimes. But his house has to be marked on the map. Do it for me, I can't see that small drawing that well. Ninety-six, I am."

"Sure," Elle replied, grinning. She marked the house on the map.

"And mum's the word. My dear husband's favourite great-nephew, Andrew. Can't let him be without a gift on Christmas. Yes, yes, we're coming. Had to alter the suit a bit! I am a lot thinner than my son, after all! I may have the same snub nose and the same black eyes, but I don't have the tummy!" Winking at Elle, Santa's Mom led the way outside, where the sleigh stood in all its splendour, fully loaded, with Rudolph and team ready to go.

"We haven't got a moment to lose," Mrs. Claus said.

The angels cheered as Elle helped Mrs. Claus on. "Merry Christmas to all!" she called, as the sleigh rose in to the air.

"Merry Christmas!" they yelled back.

"Mom!" a voice called from inside.

"There's some soup left for you, son," she yelled back. "Wait, wait, I'm coming to heat it up.Turn around, Rudolph, turn around! I'll be right back. Can't trust that boy to heat the soup himself. He'll probably spill it all. I'll get him to drink it down and tuck him right back in to bed. He needs rest."

The sleigh touched the ground. Kiya gave Mrs. Claus a hand, and she jumped off. She trotted back in to the house, only pausing at the threshold to say, "Wait for me!" She had a son to pamper.