Max's Christmas Wish (Finished 12/19)

[Sarah Penguin]

Yay is so sweet

[babybb]

awe cute chapter   

[minachan16]

Max roused from his infantile slumber by the sound of the heavy wooden door creaking open. The noise was very soft, but caused him to stir all the same, and perhaps it was for the better because the visitor intended to wake Max anyway. He roused from his slumber in a simple wooden cot, just barely big enough for him, covered with old tattered blankets that smelled musty of cedar. He whimpered, not used to the scent, and quickly found himself being picked from the cot.

“What good timing,” he heard Mrs. Claus’s voice as he opened her eyes to her smiling face. “It’s time to get this all sorted out, gumdrop.”

Max turned his head over to see Santa standing there, black boots dripping with slush as he took off his heavy red coat, his eyes on Max the entire time. “Has he been well-behaved, Mother?” he asked as he made his way over to Max and Mrs. Claus.

“Oh, he’s been just perfect, Father,” Mrs. Claus cooed, running her finger down the bridge of Max’s nose.

“Well enough that his nice percentage has been raised?”

Mrs. Claus paused. “No, I don’t know that yet for sure.”

Santa sighed as he went to a large foreboding desk that Max hadn’t noticed, sitting down and pulling out a seemingly endless scroll of paper. He unraveled it and touched the parchment to reveal Max’s name and rating. He grunted approvingly with a slight smile as he rolled the scroll back up. “It’s up. Okay, whipper-snapper, time to change you back.”

Max whimpered louder, tossing in Mrs.. Claus’s arms at the thought of changing back. This was the happiest Christmas Eve he’d ever had. His wish had come true to an extent he hadn’t even imagined. Why did he have to go back? Well, he knew… he knew but he didn’t want to admit it, and so he put up a fight, pouting and grunting and squirming.

“Now, now,” Santa said, not backing down. “None of that, Max. You know you can’t stay a baby. You’ve had your fun and now you have to go home.”

“No!” Max said, in a babbly sort of way, spitting out his sleigh bell pacifier as it rolled across the wooden floorboards. The room went quiet for a moment as Mrs. Claus looked worried and Santa looked frustrated. “Max, if your nice rating drops again…”

“No!” Max said, emboldened. “No no no no no!”

He knew he had the upper hand, but oh how short-sighted he was being. “Max,” Santa said in a low voice. “You know I don’t give presents to good boys and girls, right?”

Max nodded softly, curling a little, fearing what he had done, as he lay in Mrs. Claus’s arms.

“Do you really think it’s a good idea to disobey me?”

Max paused, feeling ashamed as he shook his head back and forth.

“So are you ready to grow up now?”

Max paused a moment. He knew he had to, but he didn’t want to. His plump little face fell in disappointment. This didn’t go unnoticed by the jolly old elf, though.

“Mother, may I?” Santa asked as he held out his arms to hold the baby. Mrs. Claus smiled gently and released Max to Santa’s care. He was cold, so cold, likely from the weather outside and all his work, but he was strong. Mrs. Claus had held him so dependably, but he felt like a feather in Father Christmas’s arms. “Max,” he acknowledged the boy looking down with kindness and understanding. “Are you afraid of growing up?”

Max’s face tensed, his lips quivering as he wasn’t sure how to respond. If he thought about it, there were good things about being eleven, and better things to look forward to as he got older, like PG-13 movies, staying up past 10, and driving a car. If he stayed like this, he’d never have those opportunities, but still…

“Max,” Santa replied softly. “If you can, can you try to tell me why you’re afraid?”

He thought about it, the easiest way he could say it, and let it dribble from his lips. “No… no mo’ Sanna…” Santa’s lips formed a small “o”, as he chuckled, a chuckle that sent shivers down Max’s little spine as the spirit of Christmas let out his traditional “ho ho ho”, softly, compassionately.

“Max,” Santa said, sitting down and rocking the baby boy a little. “Max, Max, Max… you think if you grow up I’m going to disappear?”

He nodded, feeling a little ashamed at the selfish and self-centered thought now that it was coming out of Santa’s mouth.

“Max, I don’t ever disappear. As long as you believe in me, even if you can’t see me, I’ll always be in your heart, just like I’m in your sister’s, and your mother’s, and even your father’s.”

“Dada?” Max blurted out surprised. “Dada no’ Sanna?”

“We’ve never met, but he’s always believed in me,” Santa said. “I know what he told you, but that’s something adults tell you when you’re old enough that you don’t need me anymore. You like video games now and football and being in the Boy Scouts with your friends. You don’t even want toys anymore, and pretty soon, anything you want you can get for yourself. And that’s okay, because even though you’re getting bigger, there’s still plenty of children who need me.”

“No!” Max started to cry. “Need Sanna!” he whined as he clinged to one of Santa’s suspenders, pulling on it as tight as he could.

“Max,” Santa said, lifting him up by his armpits. “As long as you believe, I’ll always be there, every Christmas, no matter how old you get, no matter what… right here,” he said as he tapped softly on Max’s chest. “I promise.”

Max’s lip trembled softly as he became still as Santa set Max down on the floor and opened his bag for Max to crawl inside, stuffing Max’s letter in the back of his woolen diaper cover. “Off you go now, whipper-snapper. You don’t want to miss Christmas morning.”

“Gwow up?” Max said as he was sat on the ground, looking up at Santa and Mrs. Claus.

“Only your height, son,” Santa chuckled. “Everything else is up to you.”

Max looked back at Santa and Mrs. Claus’s, smiling a little as he crawled on all fours into the bag, eyes closed as he scuttled inside, finding himself floating in the darkness, not afraid, not scared, because Santa was there and always would be.

--- --- ---

Max’s eyes snapped open at the low rumbling of stairs thudding up the stairs and his bedroom door flying open as Rachel rushed in and jumped on his bed. He found himself of his usual size in his usual pajamas under his usual bedsheets. “Get up! Get up!” she shouted as she jumped on his legs. “Dad said no presents until after breakfast and you’re still in bed! GET UP!”

His mother stood in the bedroom door, coming in to get Rachel off his bed. “Rachel, you know better than that!” she scolded his sister as Max sat up, bewildered. He felt at his face, grabbing at his body and hair and finding he had full control again. His mother looked at him funny. “Is everything okay, Max? Bad dream?”

“No…” Max said, letting out a soft laugh, closing his eyes and smiling. “It was a good one. Merry Christmas, Mom. Merry Christmas, Rachel."

“Merry Christmas,” his mother replied cheerfully. “Hurry up and make your bed now and come downstairs. Your pancakes are getting cold?”

“Pancakes?” Max leapt up, remembering the triple-decker double-chocolate-chip pancakes his dad always made Christmas morning. His mother laughed and Rachel rolled her eyes as they went back downstairs as Max sorted out his bed in a flurry of excitement. He only stopped as he adjusted his pillow and a small tissue-paper-wrapped ball rolled out from under it onto the carpet with what would have been a silent thud if not for the soft sound of jingling.

Max seemed perplexed as he reached down, picking up the little red paper package and jostling it a little, hearing the tinkling of bells again. Carefully, he opened the little paper ball, finding inside the sleigh bell pacifier from his dream. He dropped it from the shock, picking it up again as he looked towards the door, finding a little tag of paper wrapped to the babyish item and written in the finest cursive Max had ever seen:

 

Just because you’re growing up doesn’t mean you can’t grow down sometimes. Don’t be afraid of either. Merry Christmas.

 

Max gasped, laughing nervously as he shut his door for a moment, sliding down the door as he placed the pacifier anxiously on his lips and began to nurse, the soft jingling relaxing him as he sat there against the door for a moment before realizing there were presents under the tree for him and pancakes at the table, maybe his cousins would play football with him at his grandmothers… maybe his mom would relent and he’d get to go to see his first PG-13 movie when his uncle offered to take everyone to the movies! He took the pacifier out and placed it in his desk drawer as he raced downstairs for another Christmas Day. It would be there when he needed it again, just like Santa.

 

 

 

The End

[Les Lea]

Excellent seasonal fare 

Thank you

[babybb]

great ending to a awesome story   

[Sarah Penguin]

aww

[CDfm]

This was a fun little story. I have a question though. Did Santa leave Max the package of diapers he asked for? 

[tilou2]

On ‎12‎/‎19‎/‎2017 at 6:16 PM, minachan16 said:

Max roused from his infantile slumber by the sound of the heavy wooden door creaking open. The noise was very soft, but caused him to stir all the same, and perhaps it was for the better because the visitor intended to wake Max anyway. He roused from his slumber in a simple wooden cot, just barely big enough for him, covered with old tattered blankets that smelled musty of cedar. He whimpered, not used to the scent, and quickly found himself being picked from the cot.

“What good timing,” he heard Mrs. Claus’s voice as he opened her eyes to her smiling face. “It’s time to get this all sorted out, gumdrop.”

Max turned his head over to see Santa standing there, black boots dripping with slush as he took off his heavy red coat, his eyes on Max the entire time. “Has he been well-behaved, Mother?” he asked as he made his way over to Max and Mrs. Claus.

“Oh, he’s been just perfect, Father,” Mrs. Claus cooed, running her finger down the bridge of Max’s nose.

“Well enough that his nice percentage has been raised?”

Mrs. Claus paused. “No, I don’t know that yet for sure.”

Santa sighed as he went to a large foreboding desk that Max hadn’t noticed, sitting down and pulling out a seemingly endless scroll of paper. He unraveled it and touched the parchment to reveal Max’s name and rating. He grunted approvingly with a slight smile as he rolled the scroll back up. “It’s up. Okay, whipper-snapper, time to change you back.”

Max whimpered louder, tossing in Mrs.. Claus’s arms at the thought of changing back. This was the happiest Christmas Eve he’d ever had. His wish had come true to an extent he hadn’t even imagined. Why did he have to go back? Well, he knew… he knew but he didn’t want to admit it, and so he put up a fight, pouting and grunting and squirming.

“Now, now,” Santa said, not backing down. “None of that, Max. You know you can’t stay a baby. You’ve had your fun and now you have to go home.”

“No!” Max said, in a babbly sort of way, spitting out his sleigh bell pacifier as it rolled across the wooden floorboards. The room went quiet for a moment as Mrs. Claus looked worried and Santa looked frustrated. “Max, if your nice rating drops again…”

“No!” Max said, emboldened. “No no no no no!”

He knew he had the upper hand, but oh how short-sighted he was being. “Max,” Santa said in a low voice. “You know I don’t give presents to good boys and girls, right?”

Max nodded softly, curling a little, fearing what he had done, as he lay in Mrs. Claus’s arms.

“Do you really think it’s a good idea to disobey me?”

Max paused, feeling ashamed as he shook his head back and forth.

“So are you ready to grow up now?”

Max paused a moment. He knew he had to, but he didn’t want to. His plump little face fell in disappointment. This didn’t go unnoticed by the jolly old elf, though.

“Mother, may I?” Santa asked as he held out his arms to hold the baby. Mrs. Claus smiled gently and released Max to Santa’s care. He was cold, so cold, likely from the weather outside and all his work, but he was strong. Mrs. Claus had held him so dependably, but he felt like a feather in Father Christmas’s arms. “Max,” he acknowledged the boy looking down with kindness and understanding. “Are you afraid of growing up?”

Max’s face tensed, his lips quivering as he wasn’t sure how to respond. If he thought about it, there were good things about being eleven, and better things to look forward to as he got older, like PG-13 movies, staying up past 10, and driving a car. If he stayed like this, he’d never have those opportunities, but still…

“Max,” Santa replied softly. “If you can, can you try to tell me why you’re afraid?”

He thought about it, the easiest way he could say it, and let it dribble from his lips. “No… no mo’ Sanna…” Santa’s lips formed a small “o”, as he chuckled, a chuckle that sent shivers down Max’s little spine as the spirit of Christmas let out his traditional “ho ho ho”, softly, compassionately.

“Max,” Santa said, sitting down and rocking the baby boy a little. “Max, Max, Max… you think if you grow up I’m going to disappear?”

He nodded, feeling a little ashamed at the selfish and self-centered thought now that it was coming out of Santa’s mouth.

“Max, I don’t ever disappear. As long as you believe in me, even if you can’t see me, I’ll always be in your heart, just like I’m in your sister’s, and your mother’s, and even your father’s.”

“Dada?” Max blurted out surprised. “Dada no’ Sanna?”

“We’ve never met, but he’s always believed in me,” Santa said. “I know what he told you, but that’s something adults tell you when you’re old enough that you don’t need me anymore. You like video games now and football and being in the Boy Scouts with your friends. You don’t even want toys anymore, and pretty soon, anything you want you can get for yourself. And that’s okay, because even though you’re getting bigger, there’s still plenty of children who need me.”

“No!” Max started to cry. “Need Sanna!” he whined as he clinged to one of Santa’s suspenders, pulling on it as tight as he could.

“Max,” Santa said, lifting him up by his armpits. “As long as you believe, I’ll always be there, every Christmas, no matter how old you get, no matter what… right here,” he said as he tapped softly on Max’s chest. “I promise.”

Max’s lip trembled softly as he became still as Santa set Max down on the floor and opened his bag for Max to crawl inside, stuffing Max’s letter in the back of his woolen diaper cover. “Off you go now, whipper-snapper. You don’t want to miss Christmas morning.”

“Gwow up?” Max said as he was sat on the ground, looking up at Santa and Mrs. Claus.

“Only your height, son,” Santa chuckled. “Everything else is up to you.”

Max looked back at Santa and Mrs. Claus’s, smiling a little as he crawled on all fours into the bag, eyes closed as he scuttled inside, finding himself floating in the darkness, not afraid, not scared, because Santa was there and always would be.

--- --- ---

Max’s eyes snapped open at the low rumbling of stairs thudding up the stairs and his bedroom door flying open as Rachel rushed in and jumped on his bed. He found himself of his usual size in his usual pajamas under his usual bedsheets. “Get up! Get up!” she shouted as she jumped on his legs. “Dad said no presents until after breakfast and you’re still in bed! GET UP!”

His mother stood in the bedroom door, coming in to get Rachel off his bed. “Rachel, you know better than that!” she scolded his sister as Max sat up, bewildered. He felt at his face, grabbing at his body and hair and finding he had full control again. His mother looked at him funny. “Is everything okay, Max? Bad dream?”

“No…” Max said, letting out a soft laugh, closing his eyes and smiling. “It was a good one. Merry Christmas, Mom. Merry Christmas, Rachel."

“Merry Christmas,” his mother replied cheerfully. “Hurry up and make your bed now and come downstairs. Your pancakes are getting cold?”

“Pancakes?” Max leapt up, remembering the triple-decker double-chocolate-chip pancakes his dad always made Christmas morning. His mother laughed and Rachel rolled her eyes as they went back downstairs as Max sorted out his bed in a flurry of excitement. He only stopped as he adjusted his pillow and a small tissue-paper-wrapped ball rolled out from under it onto the carpet with what would have been a silent thud if not for the soft sound of jingling.

Max seemed perplexed as he reached down, picking up the little red paper package and jostling it a little, hearing the tinkling of bells again. Carefully, he opened the little paper ball, finding inside the sleigh bell pacifier from his dream. He dropped it from the shock, picking it up again as he looked towards the door, finding a little tag of paper wrapped to the babyish item and written in the finest cursive Max had ever seen:

 

Just because you’re growing up doesn’t mean you can’t grow down sometimes. Don’t be afraid of either. Merry Christmas.

 

Max gasped, laughing nervously as he shut his door for a moment, sliding down the door as he placed the pacifier anxiously on his lips and began to nurse, the soft jingling relaxing him as he sat there against the door for a moment before realizing there were presents under the tree for him and pancakes at the table, maybe his cousins would play football with him at his grandmothers… maybe his mom would relent and he’d get to go to see his first PG-13 movie when his uncle offered to take everyone to the movies! He took the pacifier out and placed it in his desk drawer as he raced downstairs for another Christmas Day. It would be there when he needed it again, just like Santa.

 

 

 

The End

A very nice story...everybody should read

Thank you Mina