TINY
By Amber Hescock Johnson
Dedicated to Sir Gavin.
Happy Birthday and Merry Christmas to you!
Gavin was up later than usual, due to a heightened level of seasonal
excitement. He was in an especially festive mood, as his birthday was
the next day, followed closely by Christmas.
In Gavin’s younger days, he went through a lengthy and intense Santa
phase. This time in his life entailed carrying a small Santa figurine
wherever he went–so consistently that its colors started to wear off.
He could also be found with a Santa stuffy at bedtime, and—of
course—dressing up as Santa for Halloween. He’d gotten a few years
older, but clearly had held on the magic of Christmas, only amplified
by his birthday.
Feeling restless, Gavin got up to use the bathroom. While in the hall,
he noticed a strange sound echoing from the kitchen. Kind of a
twinkling.
Everyone else was asleep. Figuring the dog was up to something, he
went to investigate. The noise grew louder as he grew closer.
Gavin entered the kitchen–and froze. There in the open silverware
drawer sat Tiny, the family’s shelf-hopping elf. “What the heck!” said
Gavin, which startled the elf and caused Tiny to trip on the upcurved
tip of a spoon.
“Whoa…” said Gavin, as he stepped closer. That’s when Tiny
gathered himself, hopped up on the counter and said, “Why hello!”
Upon hearing Tiny speak, Gavin’s heart did a backflip. “This has got
to be a dream,” he said, shaking his head. At the same time, he was
curious and had always wondered what Tiny did when no one was
looking. Now was his chance to finally get some answers.
He rubbed his eyes, then looked up to find Tiny using a salt shaker as
a stool. “Hello, Sir Gavin!” he said warmly. “Let me be the first to
wish you a very happy birthday, indeed!”
Gavin looked at the clock–it was midnight. His birthday had begun!
“Thank you, Tiny,” Gavin replied. “Just call me Gavin.”
“Okay, sir,” said Tiny.
Gavin asked, “What have you been up to tonight?”
“Well to be honest, I was hungry and searching for your mom’s
secret stash of holiday candy.”
Gavin’s mouth dropped open. “She has a secret stash of holiday
candy?” he asked loudly and incredulously.
“Shhhhhh! You’ll wake them up,” said Tiny. “I’ve been waiting to
talk to you alone.”
“Me? Wow,” said Gavin. Now he was even more curious.
“Santa has been impressed with you,” explained Tiny. “He’d like to
meet with you in person on your birthday, to thank you for your
service to the fundamental principles of the nice list. He has a special
place in his heart for kids born close to Christmas, you know.”
“Are you kidding me? Meet Santa?! But how? When? Where?
WHAT?!”
“No, yes, drone, now, North Pole, that’s what,” said Tiny.
“Um, did you just say ‘drone’?” asked Gavin.
“Yes indeed! Follow me, sir!” Tiny did a perfect double flip off the
counter and landed by the backdoor, which leads from the kitchen to
the backyard. “If you don’t mind?” he said.
“Oh yes, of course,” said Gavin. He opened the back door, then
once they were out in the cold winter air, he shut it behind them.
The white trim of Tiny’s elf uniform glowed in the moonlight. Gavin
followed him to the other side of the deck, where Tiny disappeared
underneath, prompting a mouse to scurry out. Gavin got down on
his knees to take a look. There he saw a drone and remote control.
“Is this deck like your drone garage or something?” asked Gavin.
“Pretty much,” said Tiny.
“How are we going to use a drone to get to the North Pole? This
doesn’t even make sense!” said Gavin.
“True, true. It does not make sense, but that doesn’t mean it’s not
possible. First, I’ll need to downsize you–err, I mean, shrink you,”
explained Tiny.
“Are you kidding me?” laughed Gavin. “Tiny! For real? You’ve got to
be kidding me!”
“I don’t kid about North Pole transportation,” said Tiny. “Or the
business of being nice or naughty. Everything else is fair game for
kidding, though.”
Tiny pulled a tiny cookie, the size of a thumbtack and shaped like an
ornament, from his pocket. “Here you go,” he said.
Gavin examined the cookie as it lay balanced on the tip of his pointer
finger. “How is a cookie this small going to do anything but make me
want a bigger cookie?” he asked.
“You’ll see,” said Tiny.
“Alright,” said Gavin, still dubious but realizing that after talking to
an elf, now was not the time to start doubting holiday magic. He
placed the cookie on his tongue and, since it was too small to chew,
swallowed it like a cinnamon-flavored pill.
“Hmm, that’s odd,” said Gavin. “I feel totally normal!” Just as he
finished the thought, the cookie did its work. All at once, he shrank
down to about 11 inches tall and wound up suspended in air where
his center of gravity used to be, about two and a half feet above the
ground. He promptly plummeted to the frosty earth, using a well-
honed football move to roll upon impact.
“Well done, champ!” said Tiny. “Now hop on!” The elf was sitting
atop the drone, with the remote control in his lap. Gavin joined him,
and slowly Tiny guided the drone, just an inch off the ground, out
from under the low deck with dazzlingly precise control.
“Hold on!” yelled Tiny. Gavin grabbed the edge of the central body
of the drone, careful to avoid the propellers. At what felt to Gavin
like light speed, they rocketed away, over the neighborhood and then
the nearby town forest, and up beyond the clouds.
Soon, through a clearing, Gavin saw a large city all lit up and
sparkling. But it wasn’t long before the lights of cities and homes
grew sparse, and all was dark below.
“Hang in there, sir! We’re getting close!” shouted Tiny. The air was
ice cold, but somehow, Gavin felt fine and correctly assumed the
cookie had imparted him with an elf-like imperviousness to frigid
temperatures.
“This is awesome!” yelled Gavin, feeling the thrill. Suddenly he
noticed glowing ribbons of green and blue illumination coursing
through the sky, and snowy surface beneath them. He was
completely wonder-struck and remained silent as Tiny began their
descent. Soon a village came into view, every surface lined with
Christmas lights–there must have been millions.
“We’re carbon neutral now, sir,” shouted Tiny over the whir of the
drone, seeming self-conscious about the electricity use. “All those
lights run on a combination of wind energy and good vibes.”
“Nice!” said Gavin.
They zoomed into the village square, empty except for a few ice
sculptures and a lone arctic rabbit wearing a bowtie. After they
disembarked, Tiny handed Gavin another cookie, this time shaped
like a Christmas tree and now a proper size, proportionally. “You
want to feel like yourself when you meet the big guy,” said Tiny.
Gavin ate the cookie, and after a delay of just a second or two,
rocketed up the equivalent of several stories in height in an instant.
“Whoa, I’m super dizzy,” gasped Gavin.
“It’s normal to be dizzy with joy at the North Pole! Let’s go!”
shouted Tiny, unconcerned and waving his hand as if to call attention
to the grandeur of the village. Sure enough, as they followed a
gumdrop-paved path, just a moment later, Gavin felt like his old self–
but more excited than ever.
The gumdrop path inefficiently weaved around buildings and trees,
which Gavin found strange. Tiny must’ve sensed this reaction, or
encountered it before. Right as Gavin had the thought, Tiny said,
without even a glance in his direction, “It’s about the journey, not
just the destination!”
“Of course,” thought Gavin. He relished the sights along the way
including reindeer in their stable, a busy sporting goods workshop as
seen through an open gumdrop-shaped door, and a Christmas tree at
the entrance to the dining hall, draped with golden utensils, cookie
ornaments, and candy canes, and finished with popcorn and
cranberry garlands and a red berry and white cream striped trifle as
topper.
Finally, they arrived at a tiny cabin. “Why would the biggest person at
the North Pole have the smallest house?” asked Gavin, who was now
feeling a bit nervous to meet the legend himself.
“Well, it’s just his office. But as Santa always says, ‘It’s not the size of
the house that matters, it’s the size of the cookies!’ And I’ve always
interpreted his use of ‘cookies’ as an analogy for Christmas spirit.”
said Tiny. “He really does love cookies, though, so who knows, sir.”
Tiny executed an extraordinarily complex knock sequence on Santa’s
door. Gavin has a good ear for music, and at first thought it sounded
like a peppy version of “O Christmas Tree.” But upon closer
listening, he realized Tiny was actually tapping out the “Happy
Birthday” song. Gavin fixed his hair and tucked in his shirt,
reflexively, barely realizing what he was doing.
The door opened to reveal thousands upon thousands of fluttering
files, hanging on a conveyer belt filing system that looked to Gavin
like a rollercoaster for paperwork. The red, green, and gold folders
shuffled and shimmied each time the belt started. A wall of screens to
the right displayed weather forecasts from around the world, in all
different languages, and a series of line graphs, jagged like
mountaintops, morphed and bobbed as it updated in real time,
tracking levels of Christmas spirit by region.
“We don’t know the exact route Santa will take until all the data is in,
just before take-off. It’s always a last-minute call,” explained Tiny,
pointing to the information displays. Gavin was amazed, yet his eyes
looked beyond all the hubbub, scanning and searching for the man,
the myth, the maker of toys and dreams. Then he heard it.
“Ho, ho, ho! Is that Gavin I hear?” Santa’s enormous, overstuffed
desk chair, upholstered in a candy cane stripe fabric, swiveled to face
them. Suddenly, Gavin wasn’t nervous at all! Just happy to be there.
Santa’s face was such a warm and welcoming sight, all he could do
was smile.
“Yes! It’s me!” said Gavin, gathering speed with each step as he
approached Santa’s giant, cluttered desk. Santa came around to give
him a hug.
“Thank you for coming all this way, Gavin. Do you have any idea
why I wanted to see you?”
“Not a clue,” said Gavin. “But if I had to guess… maybe you’ve
noticed that I started playing handball recently–and I’m shockingly
good at it!”
“Ho ho ho!” laughed Santa. “Well, yes, we’re aware of your
competitive exploits. What I appreciate most is that Tiny says you are
a good sport–which is not always easy when you are so competitive!
Impressive, Gavin.”
Tiny hopped up onto Santa’s chair, then up to the desk with a
pirouette, and tapped a couple of buttons on the handheld device
that lay there. The suspended folders lurched forward, swinging and
swaying in the shuffle. As they came to a stop, Santa pulled a gold
folder from its perch. “Ah, yes. Here you are, Gavin! Let me see…”
As Santa leafed through the papers in the folder, his eyes lit up.
“There’s a definite pattern here. First, there’s the matter of your
brothers. Twin brothers. You were the only child before they came
along, weren’t you?”
“Uh, yes!” said Gavin brightly. “I guess I was.”
“Well, you’ve had to share a lot with those two, haven’t you?” asked
Santa.
“Yes, pretty much,” replied Gavin. “But we have a lot of fun, usually.
I love sports, and so do my brothers, so there is always someone to
play with and practice with.”
“Your birthday is close to Christmas, but you’ve never complained
about sharing that time of year with me and my holiday. Not once. In
fact, you see it as making your birthday even more special, don’t
you?”
“Yeah, of course!” said Gavin. “Christmas is the best and birthdays
are the best. So for me, December is the most amazing time of year.”
Santa continued, “I see that many of Tiny’s reports note that you
comfort your brothers when they are upset, and try to make them
feel better when they are hurt.” Santa glanced at Tiny, standing off to
the side, who nodded emphatically.
Gavin had never really thought about this before. “Of course,” he
said. “Don’t all big brothers do that?”
Santa smiled, and turned to Tiny, expectantly.
“Uh, no,” said Tiny. “I’ve served hundreds of families by now, and
this most certainly isn’t always the case. Some big brothers, well, they
prefer to agitate rather than calm siblings. Trust me on this one. I get
headaches just thinking about it!”
Gavin shrugged. “I guess!”
Santa cleared his throat, indicating that he was about to say
something of importance. “Tiny has suggested to me that you are a
true leader. In sports, in your family, and in holiday cheer!”
“I hereby bestow upon you the official North Pole designation of
Honorary Steward of Christmas Spirit! This title comes with many
benefits, including lifetime nice list classification, annual midnight
trips to the North Pole for as long as you live or wish, and especially
for you, entry into the elves’ annual handball tournament! Of course,
you’ll have to shrink down for that!”
“Wow! Thank you Santa.” said Gavin. He could hardly believe it.
“Best. Christmas. Ever!”
“Unfortunately, for now, I must return to my work as Christmas is
approaching, and your birthday festivities will begin in the morning–I
wouldn’t want you to miss a moment of them,” said Santa. “Happy
birthday and the merriest of Christmases to you, Gavin!”
Santa turned to Tiny, “And thank you for bringing this tremendous
talent to my attention!”
“All in a day’s work, sir!” said Tiny.
Gavin gave Santa his thanks, and as he and Tiny strolled back to the
drone on the winding gumdrop path, he practically floated–feeling so
happy and light on his feet.
With another microscopic cookie, Gavin was back down to Tiny’s
size and they were sailing into the night.
Before he knew it, Gavin saw the multi-colored Christmas lights on
the evergreen trees in front of his home as they descended. Tiny
performed the most impressive parking job ever, deftly gliding under
the deck.
After returning to human scale, Gavin led Tiny back into the house
and it was time to say goodnight. “Thank you, Tiny,” said Gavin. “I’ll
never forget this for as long as I live!”
“Happy birthday, dear Gavin!” sang Tiny. Then he was off.
Gavin returned to bed and dreamed of his friend Santa, playing
handball with the elves, and becoming a North Pole champion!
The next day, he and his brothers found Tiny up to his crazy antics.
And as usual, Gavin’s birthday was full of treats, like waffles for
dinner and cake, of course. He received many wonderful presents,
and felt very thankful for the entire season.
At one point, Gavin tried to introduce his brothers to Tiny, but he
was unresponsive. Back to acting like a mere doll. “Did I imagine that
whole trip to the North Pole?” he wondered.
Just a couple days later, Gavin and the twins woke up on Christmas
morning to find an enormous pile of gifts waiting for them.
Gavin thought he’d emptied his stocking when he noticed that the
toe still had a funny shape. He reached in and pulled out a vibrant,
candy cane striped ticket, printed with silver lettering that sparkled in
the morning light.
The title read, “Honorary Steward of Christmas Spirit.” In small print
were the words, “Admit one to the North Pole annually. Holder
entitled to entry in annual elf handball tournament.*”
Then, in super small fine print was an intriguing footnote: “*Jolly
salutations and confections may apply.”
“I knew it!” shouted Gavin, who ran to show his brothers. Tiny sat
nearby as the boys examine the ticket.
Gavin looked up at Tiny to thank him. And that’s when, to this day,
the three of them swear—up, down, and sideways—they saw Tiny
wink.
The end
