The calm after the storm

Time was standing still for Santa. Finally he could enjoy the calm after the storm, the broad, slow-moving waters beyond the cataract. He was in a mellow mood, delighted that his plans had reached a state of readiness, and only awaited his “HI-YO, let’s go!” to begin the greatest of all winter journeys. His red suit, cap, white socks and big black belt were draped over the chair and the mukluks waited patiently on the floor.
“All I have to do,” he said happily to his two grand children, noisily horsing about on his bed, “is listen for my alarm clock, get up and dress, and be out and away. Oh, I am so excited!”
The children were too young to understand what all the fuss had been about, and Santa, pleased at their curious questions, but rather concerned about the state of his sheets and blankets, sat them down and showed them an enormous photo album stuffed with pictures of his countless trips. As he turned the pages, he told the children about the countries he’d visit that very night, and noticing that they were not in the least sleepy, took them down to the stables to see the sleek reindeer and newly decorated sled. There, already piled high on the back of the sleigh were the large sacks, lumpy and bumpy with presents for Santa to deliver.
Suddenly the children were tired; worn out by the excitement they wanted Santa to take them to their beds.
“Dream happy dreams,” he said, as he tucked them in, “I fancy they will all come true.”

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