At the Beach

At the Beach

“Why did we have to come here?” five-year-old Danny cried,

“You wanted to come! Haven’t you had the best time? The beach, that boat ride, the helicopter tour of the island?”

“Yes, but...”

“And we still have more fun things to do!”

“But he won’t know where we are!”

“He always knows, I told you that.”

“I don’t believe you. I want to believe you, but I’m just scared you might be wrong.”

“Well, I won’t say that I’m never wrong, but this time I know I’m right.”

“What? Why won’t you say you’re never wrong, I thought you told me you were never wrong.”

“I probably did, but only about some things, not everything.”

“Like what?”

“Like if you just pretend to brush your teeth you may get a cavity and have to go get your tooth drilled. Stuff like that. Did you brush your teeth?”

“So,” Danny said, ignoring the tooth brushing comment, “you are sure about this?”

“Absolutely. I promise. But you have to go to sleep even if we are in a different state, and in a hotel. I know it’s required.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I used to be five years old.”

“And did you ever go away this night.”

“Yes, yes we did,” Mom said, “we were up in the mountains, and I was a little scared too, but it worked out fine. He always knows. So... you better get to sleep!”

“Ok, it’s a funny place to have Christmas, no snow or anything!”

“I think Santa likes it, he gets to go everywhere, so he never gets bored.”

“Goodnight Mum,” Danny said, then yelled “Goodnight Dad!”

“Goodnight Danny!” Dad yelled from the other room where he was hauling packages in from the car.

It was a very Merry Christmas, indeed.