Dear Friends,
Today began with one innocent sentence.
“Santa,” said Jingle, “we made a kite.”
Now, when an elf says they made a kite, you might imagine sticks, paper, string, and perhaps a cheerful tail made of ribbon.
That is not what this was.
This kite was the size of a small barn.
It had candy-cane stripes, golden bells, six tails, and a steering wheel. I do not know why a kite needs a steering wheel, but I have learned not to ask too many questions before breakfast.
The elves wanted to test it in the spring wind.
I agreed, because I believe in supporting creativity.
Also because I had not yet had enough coffee to know better.
We carried the kite to a snowy field where the wind was already dancing. The elves handed me the string.
“Just hold tight,” said Bernard.
That is elf language for “something dramatic is about to happen.”
The kite lifted.
The bells jingled.
The tails fluttered.
Then the wind gave one enormous gust, and suddenly I was skiing across the field on my boots, holding the string with both hands while the elves chased me yelling helpful things like, “Don’t let go!” and “Try being heavier!”
I finally landed in a snowbank.
The kite landed in a pine tree.
Two squirrels were very offended.
Afterward, we sat in the snow and laughed until our cheeks hurt. The kite test was officially marked as “mostly successful,” though Bernard added “reduce Santa-dragging potential” to the improvement list.
Here is what I learned today: sometimes joy comes from trying something ridiculous with people who make the mess worth it.
Spring wind is wild.
So are elves.
And honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Still untangling ribbon,
Santa
