Pepper buzzed with excitement. It had been a whirlwind season filled with laughter, creativity, and just a smidge of chaos—and she had one final surprise planned for Frannie.
With Lucile by her side, Pepper had spent the day crafting a gift that would capture their best adventure yet. Lucile’s energy was contagious, as always, her leaps and spins inspiring Pepper to make the gift as special as possible.
Finally, the gift was ready: a magical “Snow Globe of Fun.” Inside, a tiny Lucile was caught mid-leap over a miniature, overflowing bathtub, surrounded by splashes of vibrant blue water. It was their most unforgettable escapade—Swamp vs Lagoon—perfectly preserved in a shimmering globe.
Pepper placed the snow globe on Frannie’s nightstand with a satisfied grin. “This should remind Frannie of all the fun we had this season,” she said.
Lucile tilted her head, studying the globe. “It’s a good thing Frannie’s parents forgave us for turning the bathroom into a lagoon.”
Pepper burst into laughter. “And for the towels we soaked trying to clean up!”
Lucile gave an exaggerated shrug, her stitched-on antlers wobbling dramatically. “Worth it! We made quite the splash—literally.”
Pepper chuckled, her heart full. “Lucile, you’ve made this season unforgettable. I couldn’t have done it without you.”
Lucile leaned in, giving Pepper a playful nudge. “Oh, Pepper, don’t be so modest. The fun? The plans? That was all you. I was just here for the ride—and the occasional cannonball.”
As they shared one last laugh, a warm glow filled the room. The magic of the season was reaching its crescendo. Lucile began to shimmer softly, her lively movements slowing. Bit by bit, her vibrant form turned into soft fabric and delicate stitches.
Pepper watched as Lucile transformed, her smile bittersweet but bright. She reached out, gently placing Lucile—now a perfectly huggable stuffed giraffalope—on Frannie’s bed.
“Goodbye, Lucile,” Pepper said softly, her voice full of warmth.
Flaky stood in the living room, staring at the scene Gretyl had arranged. Toy dinosaurs of all shapes and sizes were lined up in two neat rows, with a plush T-Rex towering in the center.
“It’s a dinosaur chicken fight!” Gretyl announced proudly.
Flaky blinked. “A…what now?”
“You climb onto the T-Rex, I’ll hop on the Stegosaurus, and we’ll see who can knock the other off first!”
Flaky groaned. “This sounds dangerous.”
“Flaky, come on,” Gretyl coaxed. “It’s our last big adventure of the season! Remember how much fun the zipline was?”
Flaky hesitated but eventually sighed, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Fine. But if this ends with frosting on the curtains again, I’m blaming you.”
Gretyl and Flaky each scrambled onto their respective dinosaur steeds. The T-Rex wobbled slightly as Flaky climbed aboard, her arms wrapped tightly around its plush neck.
“This is absurd,” Flaky muttered, but there was a flicker of excitement in her voice.
Gretyl, already perched confidently on the Stegosaurus, yelled, “Charge!”
The two dinosaurs lumbered toward each other with Gretyl energetically bouncing and Flaky cautiously gripping the T-Rex’s head. The toys collided with a soft thunk. Flaky nearly toppled off.
“Not bad for a snow elf!” Gretyl teased.
“Don’t underestimate me,” Flaky shot back, loosening her grip and leaning into the fun.
Their laughter echoed through the room as the battle escalated. But as Gretyl lunged for a final dramatic blow, her Stegosaurus tilted sideways, knocking over a line of toy dinosaurs like dominoes. The chain reaction sent the T-Rex sprawling, and Flaky tumbled to the floor in a heap of laughter and dinosaurs.
“Uh-oh,” Gretyl said, surveying the scene.
Flaky’s laughter faded as she sat up, looking at the mess. “Uh-oh indeed.”
Gretyl plopped down beside Flaky. “Come on, Flakes, it’s not that bad.”
Flaky sighed, readjusting her hat. “I wanted to end the season on a high note, not a catastrophic one.”
Gretyl placed a hoof on Flaky’s shoulder. “You know, messes aren’t the end of the world. We’ll reset the stage before Sabine gets up.”
Flaky hesitated, then gave a small grin. “You’re right. It was fun.”
Flaky sighed happily as she looked out the window at the softly falling snow. This season might have been messy, but it had been the best kind of messy.
“Alright, Gretyl. Let’s re-set the scene.” But when she turned back to the room she found the scene already set. And there, standing in the lineup of toy dinosaurs, was Gretyl. Her playful expression forever stitched on her face.
She was posed perfectly, as if ready for the next round of their game. One hoof rested on the Stegosaurus, her head tilted slightly as if to say, “What’s next, Flaky?”
Flaky chuckled softly and climbed onto the T-Rex. “Goodbye, Gretyl.”
The rhythmic sound of Slinkys clattering down the staircase filled the quiet house as Nim crouched at the top step, lining up yet another brightly colored coil.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Leonard the giraffalope asked, one plush hoof tapping the ground nervously.
Nim grinned, his excitement uncontainable. “A good idea? No. A great idea? Absolutely! Trust m e, Leonard, this is going to be amazing!”
Leonard tilted his head. “Amazing? Or catastrophic?”
Nim waved him off. “Tomato, tomahto.” He gave the Slinky a gentle nudge, sending it tumbling down the steps. “See? Perfectly safe.”
Leonard sighed but couldn’t resist the playful glint in Nim’s eyes. “Fine. Let’s race.”
Moments later, Nim and Leonard cheered as coils bounced and clattered, each trying to outpace the other.
“Go, green one! Go!” Nim hollered, leaning over the banister.
“Blue’s taking the lead!” Leonard countered, his hooves tapping in excitement.
But then…disaster struck. One particularly springy Slinky veered off course, ricocheting off the banister and knocking over a precariously balanced toy tower at the bottom of the stairs. The tumbling toys set off a domino effect, sending blocks, stuffed animals, and action figures scattering across the living room.
Nim froze, his hands still in mid-cheer. Leonard’s button eyes widened in mock horror. For a moment, the two stared at the chaos in silence.
Then Nim snorted. Leonard let out a wheezy laugh. And before long, both were doubled over in uncontrollable giggles.
“Okay,” Nim managed between laughs, wiping a tear from his eye. “Maybe not one of our finer moments.”
“No,” Leonard agreed. “But definitely one of the most fun.”
As their laughter faded, Nim sank onto the bottom step, surveying the mess with a wistful smile. “This has been a blast. I couldn’t have asked for a better partner for my first season in the Elves of Christmas program.”
Leonard climbed up beside him, his movements slower, more deliberate than usual. “Right back at you, Nim. You’ve got a good heart. Maybe a bit too much energy…and sugar…but a good heart.”
Nim chuckled, then noticed Leonard’s vibrant fur seemed a little less bright, his movements less animated. His smile faded and he let out a long, heavy sigh. “Oh Leonard, this is it, isn’t it?
Leonard nudged Nim’s arm gently. “Cheer up, Nim. I’ve done my job, and it’s time for me to rest. But before I go, there’s something you should know.”
Nim leaned in, his brows furrowing. “What is it?”
“Lil’s assigned kids, Issabella and Cheyenne? They’re Joe and Jake’s cousins.”
Nim’s jaw dropped. “No way! How do you know that?”
Leonard smirked. “Giraffalope intuition.”
Nim shook his head, marveling at this bit of news.
“I’ll miss you, Leonard,” Nim said softly.
“I’ll miss you too, Nim. But you’ll be fine. Just keep being you. And maybe ease up on the maple syrup, yeah?”
Nim chuckled. “No promises.”
As the first light of dawn crept through the windows, Leonard gave Nim one last, proud smile. Then, with a gentle shimmer of magic, he stilled, his plush form slumping slightly as he transformed back into a simple stuffed giraffalope.
Smarti adjusted his tiny clipboard and surveyed the living room. Every detail had been carefully accounted for: garland hung at even intervals, stockings perfectly aligned, and the lights on the tree blinking in an exact sequence of red, green, and gold. He nodded in satisfaction, flipping to his next page of notes.
“Now, the farewell gesture,” he muttered. “A simple craft, something orderly and meaningful. Perhaps a scrapbook highlighting Eric’s achievements this year.”
“A scrapbook? Seriously?” Harold’s deep, jovial voice echoed from the corner. The giraffalope trotted forward, a tangle of tinsel draped over one antler and a string of popcorn caught on his hoof. “That’s so boring. Why not build something fun, like a race track for Eric’s toy cars? I could help make ramps!”
Smarti frowned, tapping his pen against the clipboard. “Harold, a farewell is not about frivolity. It should be organized and heartfelt. A race track will just create more chaos.”
“Not if we do it right!” Harold grinned. “Come on, Smarti. Let loose for once! Have some fun!”
“Fun?” Smarti bristled. “This isn’t about me. It’s about setting a good example for Eric who, I might add, is finally off the naughty list. Order and precision are essential.”
Harold tilted his head, his usual cheer dimming slightly. “You know, Smarti, sometimes it’s okay to loosen the reins. Eric doesn’t need perfection in order to stay off the naughty list.”
Smarti opened his mouth to argue but stopped. He glanced at Harold, the giraffalope’s gentle tone striking a chord. “I… I suppose there’s more than one way to leave an impression.”
“Exactly!” Harold beamed, stepping closer. “So, how about we mix our ideas? A scrapbook with some interactive elements. Maybe a pop-up race track on one page?”
Smarti rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Interactive… that could work. But no glitter. Glitter is chaos incarnate.”
“Deal,” Harold said, holding out a hoof. They shook on it.
The two worked late into the night, crafting a farewell gift that was the perfect mix Smarti’s precision and Harold’s playfulness with fold-out surprises and movable parts. Harold even managed to sneak in a small car ramp on the final page.
As they finished, Smarti sat back and sighed. “You know, Harold, this isn’t what I envisioned, but… it feels right.”
“Told you,” Harold said with a wink. “You just needed to loosen up a bit.”
Smarti’s gaze drifted to his clipboard, now lying forgotten on the table. “Harold, can I ask you something?”
“Of course,” Harold replied, settling onto the floor beside him.
“Do you think…” Smarti hesitated. “Do you think I’m too rigid for this program?”
Harold’s eyes softened. “I think you’re great at what you do, Smarti. But, if I may be so bold, you don’t seem to really enjoy it.”
Smarti sighed. “I enjoy parts of it. When an activity comes together as planned, when Eric follows instructions I’ve left, when I make entries into The Book. That is my kind of fun.”
Harold’s eyes lit with a sudden idea. “Smarti, maybe there’s a way for you to be part of this program in a different way.”
Smarti nodded slowly, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Perhaps Santa could use someone to refine the Instruction Manual. I’ve noticed quite a few areas that could use clarification.”
Harold laughed. “That sounds like you. And you’d be amazing at it.”
As the first rays of dawn crept into the room, Harold stretched, his movements slower than usual. Smarti’s sharp eyes didn’t miss the way Harold’s vibrant coat seemed just a bit duller.
“Harold,” Smarti said softly. “Are you…?”
Harold nodded, a serene smile on his face. “It’s time, Smarti.”
Smarti swallowed hard, his usual composure faltering. “I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too, Smarti,” Harold said. “But you’re going to do great things. Just promise me one thing.”
“Don’t force Eric to read another book on good behavior?”
“No, don’t forget to have a little fun now and then.”
Smarti chuckled softly. “I’ll try.”
By the time Eric woke up, the fun, and organized, scrapbook sat on the dining room table. Harold stood beside it, now just a plain old stuffed giraffalope.
Smarti watched from his hiding spot, a bittersweet smile on his face. “Goodbye, Harold.”
Nim paced back and forth in the living room, chewing on his fingernails. His face was flushed, and his normally jolly demeanor was replaced by pure panic.
“Help! It’s Joe’s birthday tomorrow!” he blurted out, throwing his hands in the air.
Within moments, and seemingly out of nowhere, the Elves of Christmas assembled. Lil stood by, eager to get started. Pepper practically bounced in place, radiating enthusiasm. Flaky twirled on her toes with an airy smile. Smarti had already pulled out a notebook and pen, ready to take charge.
Nim’s eyes rounded. “H-How…?”
“Emergency protocol,” said Smarti, his tone clipped and efficient. “Santa and Mrs. Claus set it up in case of an emergency. This counts. What’s the plan?”
Nim quickly shook his head and moaned. “That’s the problem! I don’t have one! We have to do something amazing, but there can’t be any messes, chaos, or—”
“Messes?!” Flaky interrupted, her eyes sparkling with an idea. “What if we create an indoor snowstorm and—”.
“No!” Nim said, cutting her off before she could finish. “Absolutely no messes.”
Lil piped up. “We need to bake a cake! A birthday isn’t complete without one.”
“Organized fun is essential,” Smarti added, jotting a few notes on his clipboard. “We’ll create a detailed schedule of events.”
“Oh, let’s make a balloon arch!” Pepper exclaimed, clapping her hands. “I saw one on Sprite-a-gram. It was perfectly whimsical!”
Flaky raised her hand timidly. “Um, I could set up a zipline. Gretyl taught me.”
“Wait!” Nim shouted, throwing his arms wide. “No ziplines, no chaos, and no snowstorms!” He paused, his voice dropping to a panicked whisper. “We need to keep this clean, simple, and disaster-free.”
For a moment, all was silent. The elves glanced at one another, unsure of what to suggest next.
And then:
“The boys both love snowball fights!” Leonard the Giraffalope’s cheerful voice broke the stillness as he trotted into the room.
Nim spun around, his face a mixture of disbelief and horror. “How could you? I just said no messes!”
But it was too late. At being given permission to make a birthday mess, the elves’ faces lit up with excitement.
Flaky clapped her hands. “I can whip up a blizzard in no time!”
“No!” Nim shouted, but his voice was drowned out by the flurry of activity.
Within minutes, the living room was transformed.
Flaky conjured a miniature blizzard, blanketing the room in sparkling, fluffy snow.
Lacking balloons, Pepper set up a snow-white arch made of toilet paper rolls, which doubled as a bunker.
Smarti marked out the snowball “battle zones” with string and made rules for the game (though no one was paying attention to him).
Lil shaped perfectly round snowballs, stacking them into neat piles.
Leonard gleefully tied a balloon to each antler. “This is going to be epic!”
Nim sat on the couch, head in his hands. “This is the opposite of clean and simple,” he muttered.
“Relax, Nim,” Pepper said, tossing a snowball into the air and catching it.
Just then, the clock chimed softly—Joe and his family were waking up.
“Everybody freeze!” Nim hissed.
The elves and Leonard dove for cover, leaving the living room looking like a winter wonderland. Snow glittered in the morning light, and the birthday decorations gleamed with festive cheer.
As the family wandered into the room, gasping with delight, Nim let out a small sigh of relief. Maybe—just maybe—it hadn’t been a total disaster.
Pepper danced around the kitchen, her wooden spoon a makeshift baton as she stirred the cookie dough. The smell of sugar, vanilla, and butter filled the air, and she hummed a cheerful tune.
“Lucile!” Pepper called, pausing her stirring to look over her shoulder at the giraffalope, who was perched precariously on a stool. “Now remember, no eating the dough until the cookies are baked. Raw eggs, you know. Bad for you.”
Lucile nodded solemnly. “Got it. No dough.”
Pepper raised an eyebrow but returned to her task. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Lucile sneaking pawfuls of chocolate chips from the bag.
She frowned. “Lucile, that’s enough chocolate chips! You’ll make yourself sick.”
“But you didn’t say anything about these!” Lucile said with a mischievous grin, popping another chip into her mouth.
Pepper sighed. “Fine, but don’t come crying to me if you eat too many and—”
“Never!” Lucile interrupted, her mouth full of chocolate.
Pepper rolled her eyes and got back to her work, quickly shaping each cookie with the precision of an elf who had spent years perfecting festive treats. By the time the dough was scooped onto the baking sheets and placed into the oven, Lucile was slouched on the stool, her ears drooping.
“Lucile?” Pepper turned to see the giraffalope clutching her stomach.
“I… I think I ate too many chocolate chips,” Lucile groaned.
Pepper sighed again, shaking her head. “I warned you.”
“You warned me about the dough,” Lucile muttered. “Not the chips.”
Before Pepper could respond, Lucile’s stomach let out a loud, gurgling sound. “Uh-oh.”
Pepper barely had time to grab a dish towel before Lucile leaned over the counter and—
“Bleh!” A cascade of chocolate chips spilled from Lucile’s mouth, scattering across the counter like tiny, sugary marbles.
Pepper froze, her spoon hovering mid-air. “Did you just…puke chocolate chips?!”
Lucile nodded miserably.
Pepper looked at the giraffalope, then at the counter now covered in shiny, uneaten chocolate chips. “You’re unbelievable,” she muttered, grabbing a spatula to start cleaning up.
Lucile whimpered. “Am I gonna be okay, Pepper?”
The elf softened. “Yes, Lucile. Elves and, I have to assume, giraffalopes are built to handle a lot of sugar, but you should probably stick to hay for the rest of the night.”
Lucile nodded, flopping onto the floor dramatically.
As Pepper cleaned up the mess, she muttered to herself, “I bet Santa never thought we’d need a rule for this.”
Later that night, as the cookies cooled on the counter and Lucile snored softly in the corner, Pepper made her entry in The Book: Do bake cookies to spread holiday cheer. Don’t let your giraffalope eat an entire bag of chocolate chips unless you enjoy cleaning sugary puddles off the counter.
Smarti stood in the middle of the kitchen, his arms crossed, surveying the ingredients before him. Gingerbread walls, a bowl of royal icing, and a variety of colorful candies lay meticulously organized. His plan for redemption after the unfortunate Lego cottage was simple: build a gingerbread house for Eric. Don’t overdo it.
“Well, simpler,” Harold remarked, chomping on a candy cane. “At least compared to your last project.”
Smarti ignored Harold’s jibe. “This time, I’m taking a no-nonsense approach. It’ll be elegant, straightforward, and perfectly delightful for Eric.”
“Great plan!” Harold said with a grin. “You start, and I’ll…supervise.”
Smarti arched an eyebrow but decided to let it slide. He carefully piped icing onto the edges of two gingerbread walls and pressed them together. The precision was immaculate.
“Needs more flair,” Harold said, tossing a gumdrop onto the roof.
Smarti snatched the gumdrop off. “This isn’t about flair, Harold. It’s about symmetry and structure.”
Harold tilted his head. “So no gummy bears out front?”
“No gummy bears!”
“But what if—”
“Absolutely no gummy bears!”
Harold pouted and sat down, gnawing on a licorice rope. Smarti, satisfied with his progress, continued to construct the house. Slowly but surely, the walls stood upright, the roof was secured, and the house took shape.
“Done!” Smarti declared, wiping a smudge of icing from his brow.
“Where’s the fun? Eric’s six, remember? This house needs pizzazz!”
Smarti groaned. “Harold, fun isn’t always about pizzazz. Sometimes it’s about…” He paused, gesturing at the house. “This.”
Harold stared at him, unblinking. Then, with a single flick of his hoof, he launched a handful of marshmallows at the house.
“Harold!”
“Just a little snow, Smarti!” Harold grinned. Before Smarti could stop him, Harold picked up a tube of icing and began doodling a lopsided snowman on the side of the house.
“That’s not—”
“And some gummy bears for neighbors,” Harold added, plopping the candies along the gingerbread walkway.
Smarti’s jaw clenched as Harold stuck a licorice swing onto the roof. “You’re—ruining—it!”
“I’m making it fun!” Harold sang, now adding a pretzel fence.
The gingerbread house no longer resembled Smarti’s original plan. Instead, it was a chaotic masterpiece of candy, icing, and whimsy. Smarti looked ready to combust.
“Harold,” he said through gritted teeth. “Step. Away. From. The. House.”
Harold took a step back, surveying their creation. “Perfect, don’t you think?”
“Perfectly ridiculous,” Smarti muttered.
But as he wrote yet another rule for The Book later that night—Do involve the giraffalope in creative projects. Don’t let said giraffalope have free rein unless you’re prepared for candy chaos—he couldn’t help but smile just a little.
After all, Eric’s laughter the next morning had made it all worthwhile.
Flaky crouched behind her carefully constructed fortress, a tower made of precisely stacked rolls of toilet paper. She adjusted her goggles and peeked over the edge, scanning for any sign of movement. “Gretyl? Greeetyyyyl?” she whispered under her breath.
From across the room, Gretyl’s giggles echoed, high-pitched and mischievous. “You’ll never see me coming, Flaky! Prepare for bombardment!”
Flaky ducked just in time as a flurry of toilet paper bombs—loosely balled sheets of fluffy white—flew through the air. One grazed the tip of her ear, sending a puff of powdery tissue into the air.
“Oh-ho-ho, the battle begins!” Flaky shouted. She grabbed a handful of her own ammunition and lobbed it over her fortress. “Direct hit!” she cheered as Gretyl yelped dramatically.
“You think that was a hit? That was but a love tap!” Gretyl’s voice came from somewhere behind her own slightly crooked fortress. “Watch this!”
Before Flaky could react, Gretyl popped up, a toilet paper roll clutched in her hooves. With a dramatic spin, she launched it through the air like a snowball. Flaky tried to dodge, but the roll bounced off her goggles, unraveling in a spiraling cascade.
Flaky spluttered as she untangled herself. “Fiend!”
“And don’t you forget it!” Gretyl pranced in place, clearly delighted with herself. Her tower wobbled precariously, but she didn’t seem to notice.
Flaky grinned, her voice taking on a sing-song lilt. “Oh, Gretyl!” She reached behind her tower and pulled out her secret weapon: an entire roll of toilet paper wrapped tightly in tape for extra weight and aerodynamics.
Gretyl’s eyes widened. “Flaky, no…”
“Flaky, yes!” With a mighty throw, Flaky sent the roll sailing across the room. It hit Gretyl’s fortress dead center, sending the entire structure collapsing in a flurry of toilet paper. Gretyl stood there, surrounded by the ruins, her mouth agape.
For a moment, all was silent. Then Gretyl threw her head back and laughed. “That was amazing! I didn’t think you had it in you, Flaky!”
Flaky climbed over the remains of her own fortress and extended a hand to Gretyl. Gretyl took Flaky’s hand with a grin.
The two of them sat on the floor amidst the chaos, giggling and catching their breath. Flaky glanced at Gretyl, her smile fading just slightly. “Oh Gretyl, I’ll miss these shenanigans, you know.”
Gretyl’s ears drooped for a moment before she perked up again. “Don’t you worry, Flaky. I’ll always be part of the memories we made. And hey, we still have a week. Let’s make it count.”
Flaky nodded, her heart full. “Oh yes, let’s make it legendary!”
Nim watched Leonard twirl around the tree with a sad sigh. Santa told them that the giraffalopes knew their fate, but was it polite to talk about it?
“Hey, Leonard?”
“Hmm?”
“Santa said…he told us…that is…”.
“You know.”
Nim nodded.
“Well, good!” Leonard jumped up. “I always thought it was silly to keep it a secret from you, but you know the Big Guy…”.
Nim was starting to think he didn’t know the big guy at all, actually. “Aren’t you sad, Leonard?”
“Sad?”
“Yeah. After this year you won’t be around to…help me.”
“Pah! That is not at all true!”
Nim eyed Leonard, suddenly worried that Santa hadn’t really explained the situation to the giraffalopes.
“I mean, I may not be able to help you, but I’ll be around. Those boys love me and there is no way they are getting rid of me after this season.”
Nim smiled. “Of course they love you, Leonard. Of course they do.”
Leonard gave a brief nod. “So, what’s on the agenda tonight?”
“Fun with fruit.” Nim held up a bag of oranges and a bag of assorted googly eyes.
“Huh?”
“I heard Joe’s mom saying she had ‘eyes everywhere’ so they’d better behave, so I thought…let’s put eyes everywhere.”
Nim and Leonard got to work. By the time they were through the bag of googly eyes, they’d eyed up all the oranges, bananas, apples, and pears in the house.
“Hm,” said Nim as they stood back to admire their work.
“It’s a little…”
“Too much?” finished Nim.
“Over the top,” said Leonard.
Nim tilted his head, taking in the fruit army staring back at them. He started laughing—a full, belly-deep laugh that made his pointy ears wiggle. “Over the top is kind of the point, isn’t it?”
Leonard joined in, chuckling. “You’re right. We’ve created an army of fruit that’s ready to shame anyone sneaking a cookie before dinner.”
“Perfect,” Nim said, grinning. “But I think we can go further.”
Leonard raised an eyebrow. “Further? We’re out of fruit and out of eyes.”
Nim rummaged through a drawer and pulled out a roll of tape. “Who said anything about stopping with fruit? What about the cereal boxes? The milk jug? Oh, and the sugar container!”
Leonard’s eyes widened.
Nim grinned. “Now, let’s get to work.”
For the next hour, the two of them added googly eyes to every possible surface in the kitchen. By the time they were done, everything from the salt shaker to the toaster glared back at them with wide, wobbly eyes.
Leonard wiped his brow dramatically. “Well, I’m officially exhausted. Do you think this will actually work?”
Nim shrugged. “If nothing else, it’ll give the boys something to think about. And maybe it’ll make them laugh.”
“Or scream,” Leonard added, smirking.
Nim chuckled. “Either way, mission accomplished.”
Just as they were about head to their spots for the night, Nim stopped and glanced back at the googly-eyed chaos. He turned to Leonard with a mischievous grin. “You know…we could always do the bathroom next.”
Feeling much better after getting some frustration out in the epic snowball fight, Smarti headed back to Eric’s house. He was looking forward to starting fresh with Harold and practicing a few coping techniques Rudolph had given him.
“When you start to feel frustrated, take 3 deep breaths. This came in handy back when all of the other reindeer used to laugh at me and call me names.”
When Smarti entered the kitchen, he found Harold circling a…well, he wasn’t sure what it was.
“What do we have here, Harold?”
“Well hello Smarti! It’s a car seat for Eric’s new sister.”
“How does it work?” asked Smarti.
Harold shrugged. “Not sure, but it came with an instruction manual Eric’s dad was reading earlier today.”
Smarti’s eyes widened. “Instruction manual, you say?”
Harold nodded and pointed to the thick booklet. Smarti approached the manual in awe, hands slightly trembling in his excitement. Slowly, carefully, and with great reverence, he opened the manual.
“Section 1. Rule 1.1. Always read the instructions for the car seat and your vehicle before installing the car seat.”
Smarti smiled. Order was his happy place.
“Section 2. Rule 1.1. Secure the car seat. Oh and look, Harold, there’s a diagram.”
“Huh-z-z-z-z-z-z-zee. Huh-z-z-z-z-z-ze.”
Smarti rolled his eyes. Of course Harold would be bored. He thrived on disorder and…spontaneity. Smarti shuddered.
“Section 2. Rule 1.2 Route the seat belt or lower anchor strap through the correct belt path. If using the seat belt, buckle and lock it at the latch plate or retractor.”
Smarti read through the instructions twice, then once more for good measure and then shook Harold awake.
“I didn’t eat the cookies! You ate the cookies!”
Smarti sighed. “I need your…help, Harold. It’s time to test the fit of the car seat.”
Harold eyed the car seat dubiously. “Oh, no way am I letting you buckle me into that contraption. You’ll never let me out!”
“Oh of course I would!” exclaimed Smarti. “But not to worry, I want to see if you can follow instructions. I know I can.”
Harold relaxed. “Ok, what do I do first?”
“First, ‘position the child’. In this case, the half-elf.”
Smarti climbed in the seat, handing Harold the instructions.
Harold continued. “Place your child in the car seat with their back flat against the seat.”
“Ouch!” grumbled Smarti. “You don’t have to push so hard.”
Harold ignored him.
“Place the harness straps over the child’s shoulders and through the slots at or below their shoulders.”
Harold eyed Smarti’s small frame. “I don’t think this is going to work, Smarti.”
“We just need to get an idea, Harold. Just do your best.”
Harold pushed and prodded while Smarti sniffed and snorted until finally…SNAP! Smarti was buckled in.
“Now, pull those straps tight, Harold.” For the first time this season, Smarti felt calm and happy. This was what he was made to do. Spread order, not wallow in chaos.
“Perfect,” he said. “Now, unbuckle me.”
Silence, followed by a low, almost menacing, chuckle.
“Harold?” Smarti twisted and turned, uselessly trying to escape the confines of the carseat.
“Oh Smarti,” said Harold as he slowly walked around to face the trapped elf. “Smarti, Smarti, Smarti.”
“Harold?” Smarti’s voice was barely above a whisper as he watched Harold walk towards him with a baby’s pacifier. “What are you–Barglggle!”
Harold, with joy and glee, shoved the pacifier in Smarti’s mouth. Then, with a maniacal laugh, grabbed the end of a light string by his mouth and gleefully galloped around and around the tree, untangling lights, causing ornaments to ping pong all over the room.
a pinch of homestead 