Timmy throws his legs over the back of the couch as he gazes at the Christmas tree upside down. Sigh. He just isn’t into Christmas this year.

It all started a couple of weeks ago during lunch at school. All of his friends talked about not believing in Santa Claus anymore. That was for little kids. Timmy agreed with them. Third graders were too big for silly stuff like that.

He really didn’t think any more about not believing until he helped his little sister Laurie write a letter to Santa Claus. She was so excited and asked him, “Timmy, why aren’t you writing your letter to Santa too?”
He didn’t want to tell her he didn’t believe in Santa anymore, so he told her, “I am too big for that now.”

She shook her head. “I feel so sorry for you Timmy. Christmases aren’t going to be as fun for you anymore.”

Laurie was right. For him, Christmas will never be the same. It wasn’t special anymore.

After they finished decorating the tree that evening, his dad popped popcorn on the stove in a big kettle. When the popcorn was finished and still hot, he poured lots of butter over it. And his mom made hot chocolate with milk, marshmallows and real cocoa. Then they went to the den where his dad built a fire and they watched Santa movies.

Timmy told his mom he wanted to look at the Christmas tree for a little longer. So, he went back to the living room and plopped down on the couch. He had hoped the tree with its blinking lights and pretty decorations would help revive his Christmas spirit. They hadn’t. Even the presents his parents placed underneath it didn’t help.

If this is a part of growing up, he wants to stay a kid.

“Dear God,” Timmy closes his eyes. “Please give me the spirit of Christmas, so I can really enjoy it this year.”

Sigh. He slings his legs off the couch and sits up. “I need to get in the den before Laurie eats all the buttery popcorn pieces.”
JINGLE. Swoosh. JINGLE. Swoosh.

“Huh?” Timmy notices a branch in the Christmas tree is jostling around and knocking into other ones.
“That’s weird. Branches don’t move on their own. Maybe there’s a mouse in it?” He edges up on the couch and peers into the tree.

JINGLE. JINGLE. Swoosh.

“No mouse. Roxy are you under the tree?” Roxy is his new puppy who thinks everything shiny is her toy. Timmy bends down and looks under the tree.

“No Roxy either.” She’s probably lying at Laurie’s feet; eating all the buttery popcorn she drops. He scratches his head.

JINGLE. JINGLE. Swoosh.

“Hey!”

Timmy hears the muffled voice and peers around the room.

“Hey!”

“H.h.hello?” The hair on the back of Timmy’s neck stand up. He doesn’t believe in ghosts either.

“Get me out of here.” It calls out. “I’m in the purple ornament.”

“In the purple ornament?” Timmy’s eyes scan the tree until he sees the new Christmas ornament his mom bought at the church bizarre last weekend. Its purple, her favorite color, and it has a silver sparkly angel on the front of it.

JINGLE. Swoosh.

And it is bobbing up and down on its own, causing the whole branch to move. Timmy reaches out and plucks the ball off the branch. As he holds it out, it moves in his grasp.

PING. PING.

“This is some kind of joke. There’s something inside making it move.” He brings the glass ball closer to his face, turns the angel side away, and peers into it.

“Hello there!” A small face slams against the inside of the ball.

Gasp! Timmy slings the ball. It lands on the tree skirt and cracks open.

“What do you think you are doing?” A little man with pointy ears jumps out of the broken ball. He has on a gold suit with red and green sparkles. His hat has three tips with bells so large the tips droop over. The toes of his shoes curl up on the ends with smaller dangling bells.

The little man straightens his clothes. “Is that how you treat your guests?”

“A wind-up Christmas elf.” Tim runs his index finger down the elf’s back. “Where’s the turnkey?”

HaHaHa. “Stop, you’re tickling me.” The elf pushes Timmy’s hand away. “I don’t have a turnkey because I’m not a toy.” He sticks his right hand out. “My name is Tripudio, but you can call me Tripp.”

Timmy gently sits Tripp down on the floor. “I…I am Timmy.” He shakes Tripp’s hand with his index finger.
“Nice to meet you Timmy. I am so happy that I feel like dancing.” The elf reaches into his pockets and pulls out gobs of tiny candy canes and glitter.

“How did you get all that into such a small pocket?” Timmy asks.
“My pockets are filled with never ending treats,” Tripp answers. “Wee!” He kicks his legs up in the air and flings glitter and candy canes as he prances around the Christmas tree. Some of it flies up Timmy’s nose.

“ACHOO!” Timmy sneezes, knocking Tripp into a package. Tripp grabs at the ribbon, pulling the package over and on top of him. The bottoms of his pointed shoes stick out from underneath. Candy canes lie scattered around.

Bark! Bark! Bark! Roxy runs into the room.

“It’s okay girl.” Timmy clasps her collar with one hand and with his other, he moves the package off of Tripp. “I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

“Timmy, is everything okay in there?”

“It’s my mom and she’s on her way. Hide.” Timmy sits Roxy on the couch and hurriedly scoots the candy canes under the tree skirt. Then he hurriedly picks up pieces of the broken ornament.

“What’s going on?” His mom asks from the doorway.

He wasn’t fast enough.

“What’s in your hand?” she demands.

Timmy closes his eyes and raises his hand so she can see the purple and silver pieces.

“Roxy broke my new ornament!” She lays her hand over her heart.

“No,” Timmy answers. “It was me. I plucked off the ornament to …” He pauses. He can’t tell his mom about seeing Tripp in it and why he dropped the ball. “To get a better look at it. I didn’t mean to drop it. I’m sorry.” He lowers his head.

“I appreciate you being honest with me and I am glad you didn’t get cut from the glass. From now on, just admire the ornaments from a distance.”

“Okay mom,” Timmy answers.

“We would love to have you come back to the den. It’s not as much fun without you.” She leans down and kisses his head.

“I’ll be in there in a few minutes.”

She turns to leave, but stops. “Why is there an elf kneeling at the manager with his hat in his hands?”

Gasp! Timmy looks at the Nativity Scene in front of the fireplace. There is Tripp bent on knee looking at baby Jesus.

“Uh…elves love Jesus too mom.”

She furrows her eyebrows. “I guess so. We’ll be waiting on you.” She picks up Roxy and walks away.

Timmy lets out a sigh of relief. “That was close.”

“Yeah, the next few days are going to be fun,” Tripp announces.

“Few days?” Timmy asks.

“I am your guest because I am not going anywhere until you get the Christmas Spirit.”