The snow fell softly on Santa’s Secret City at the North Pole. Smoking chimneys were the only sign of life. Everyone was hard at work, including the old man. A gold-glowing finger swept down the list.

 “Luna, aged 4, Meerbusch, Germany – rocking horse,” he read. The man in the red suit peered across at the Naughty Book.  No mention of Luna.

 “Good girl!” he boomed in a deep voice and smiled. Then he moved on.

 “Ben, aged 5, New York, USA – bunk bed slide.” A quick look to the right.  Not listed.

 “Very good.”

 The little helpers sat next to him as he worked, swinging their legs and chomping candy floss. They were so nervous and excited that it was only with great effort that they managed not to talk. They were not allowed to speak unless spoken to when Santa was going through his lists.  He needed every bit of concentration he could muster up. Of course things would be back to normal again once he’d finished. The butterflies, the little rascals, were here on official duty, the same as every year.

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Then to the next entry on the list:

 “Jonah, aged 7, Los Angeles – new bike.” He’d outgrown his old one.

 “Hmmm,” Santa stroked through his long, white beard and beckoned to Darfo. He lifted up his sunglasses, (which everyone wore when he was going through his lists because the magical glow was so bright. It was the same magical glow that he used to send the good children’s wishes to the toy factory, to be made into presents by the elves) then he squinted at the list and nudged the butterfly. “Do you know this lad?”

 Darfo raised his sunglasses slightly and looked at the list.  He couldn’t read, but that didn’t matter as there was a photograph of the boy next to the entry.  Jonah was holding a stick of candy floss in his hand, which might have been a bit of a giveaway, but Santa was none the wiser.

 “Oooh, of course I do, that’s Jonah! Great boy, lovely lad!”

 Santa Choccy (that’s what the butterflies sometimes called him, just for fun) looked at him suspiciously. Darfo slapped his sunglasses back on, grinned widely and gave Santa the thumbs up. “He’s a great boy, honestly, no trouble at all.”

 “Why do I get the feeling I’ve already seen this wish list before?” asked Santa, raising his eyebrows without looking up at the butterflies – his gaze was fixed on his list.

 “Nooooo, that isn’t possible,” replied a chorus of Martha, Darfo, Johnny and Sonya.

 Whatever gave him that idea? Tee-hee-hee…

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