#its educational

Raven volunteered Damian and herself as Mr. and Mrs. Clause. Every year the company opened its reception, ostentatiously decorated, to the public.

This year Father Christmas was violently unwell. Up chucking violently during his first break. While he was being loaded into an ambulance via back entrance, Albert, in charge of the whole thing started to panic. He’d called around and there were no replacement Santas to be had. 

Damian’s grandparents had started this tradition, and thereafter it was trendy for business to show how much they cared for the underprivileged. For one day a year. 

With no back up costumes available Raven magicked outfits for Damian and herself, tacking charge of Santa’s sack of presents.

Tim, seeing the panic on Albert’s face, I mead Damian as Santa Clause would give anyone pause, volunteered as a helper elf. 

The line to meet Santa was long, full of parents standing behind their children.

The first child was approaching Damian, a rather convincing Santa Clause, with Raven at his side holding Santa’s sack of presents. Albert was peeking form behind Santa’s chair rubbing his hands anxiously. Tim, the elf encouraged the Chile forward.

“WHAT DO YOU WANT FOR Christmas ? Boomed Damian as Father Christmas.

Mother took her economic cue, and said briskly: “She wants a—”

Santa snapped his fingers impatiently. The mother’s mouth slammed shut.

The child, a little girl of about 5 years, seemed to sense that here was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and spoke quickly. “I wanta narmy. Anna big castle wif pointy bits,” said the child. “Anna swored.”

WHAT DO YOU SAY? prompted Santa.

“A big swored?” said the child, after a pause for deep cogitation.

THAT’S RIGHT. Boomed Santa- Damian approvingly.

Tim, the ever helpful elf nudged Santa Clause “They’re supposed to thank you,” he said.

ARE YOU SURE? Santa Damian inquired PEOPLE DON’T, USUALLY.

“I meant they thank Santa Clause,” Tim hissed pointedly. “Which is you, right?”

YES, OF COURSE. AHEM. YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO SAY THANK YOU. Santa continued to boom. 

“’nk you.” Said the Child solemnly.

Another nudge from Tim. AND BE GOOD. THIS IS PART OF THE ARRANGEMENT. 

“’es.” 

THEN WE HAVE A CONTRACT. Santa turned looked to his wife who was holding his sack of presents.

Raven raised her eyebrows at Santa, he winked at his beloved. Raven relented with an indulgent smile. With Raven’s permission Santa reached into his sack and produced—

—a very large model castle with, as correctly interpreted, pointy blue cone roofs on turrets suitable for princesses to be locked in—

—a box of several hundred assorted knights and warriors—

—and a sword. It was four feet long and glinted along the blade.

The mother took a deep breath. “You can’t give her that!” she screamed. “It’s not safe!”

IT’S A SWORD said Santa. THEY’RE NOT MEANT TO BE SAFE.

“She’s a child!” shouted Tim, trying to intervene

IT’S EDUCATIONAL Santa insisted 

“What if she cuts herself?”

THAT WILL BE AN IMPORTANT LESSON. Explained Santa 

Chuckling softly, Raven surreptitiously gestured to the sword.

The blade of the sword turned wooden. Now toy in truth.

Albert fainted, the girl hurried away with her dream castle and her wooden sword.