In the tiny snow-dusted town of Tinselville, two siblings—Selma, the older and more skeptical one, and Noah, the wide-eyed Santa believer—were tucked into bed. Also, the room was quiet except for the old radiator groaning like it had been practicing for a ghost role in a Halloween movie.
Then, Selma leaned over, whispering like she was leaking classified spy intel.
“Noah… Santa isn’t real. It’s Mom and Dad. They sneak gifts under the tree when we’re asleep. I saw Dad once, tripping over wrapping paper like a clumsy elf.”
Noah’s eyes shot open, wide as snow globes. “No way! Santa’s real. He’s got flying reindeer that literally poop glitter. So, you can’t fake glitter poop!” Read more
Selma smirked. “Please. Mom eats the cookies. She’s been training for the Cookie Olympics her whole life.”
Later that night, Selma put her master plan into action. She patted Noah’s head gently, smoothing his hair.
“Sleep tight, little brother. Dream of glitter reindeer’s poop. I’ll handle the… investigation.”
With Noah snoring like backup vocals to the radiator, Selma crept downstairs alone and flopped dramatically onto the living room sofa—a baroque-style piece so fancy it looked like it should’ve come with its own crown.
“Tonight’s the night,” she whispered, clutching a pillow like a shield. Ten minutes later, she was snoring louder than both Noah and the radiator combined.
Meanwhile, Noah stirred awake. Realizing Selma was gone, he tiptoed downstairs—and froze. There, by the glittering tree, stood Santa.
Real Santa. Pink suit, beard fluffier than cotton candy clouds, twinkling eyes like he’d just heard the world’s funniest joke, and a cookie crumb stuck in his moustache. (Santa clearly needed a better barber, Noah thought.)
Then, Santa caught Noah’s stare, winked, and pressed a mitten to his lips.
“Shhh… I’m on a tight schedule. Millions of kids are waiting for their gifts before the Home Alone movie starts—I can’t let them miss it.”
Noah nodded. Santa carefully placed a gift right on Selma’s lap—she was still sprawled sideways on the sofa—then vanished into the snowy night.
Noah whispered to himself, “As I guessed, the glitter poop was real, so was Santa as well.” Then, he tiptoed back upstairs, shaking his head at how Selma had slept through the whole thing.
The next morning, Selma woke to find a beautifully wrapped gift resting on her lap. She felt a mix of emotions—happy to have her Christmas present, but frustrated she hadn’t caught her parents in the act.
Then, she bolted upright, clutching the gift, and dashed to Noah’s room.
“Noah! Wake up! Did you see Mom and Dad putting the gifts under the tree? I don’t know how I fell asleep before catching them. Did you hear anything downstairs?”
Noah rubbed his eyes, still smiling at the memory of Santa’s wink.
“It wasn’t Mom and Dad. It was Santa. I saw him, right there, leaving that gift for you.”Selma’s jaw dropped. Her eyes lit up like Christmas lights.
“Wait… really? Are you sure? Santa’s real?!”
Noah grinned. “Told you. And next year, remind Mom not to eat so many cookies. They’re supposed to be for the big guy.”
Just then, their parents walked in, surprised by how beautiful the gifts were.
“Wow! Kids, Merry Christmas! Looks like Santa brought you something extra special this year,” their mom said with a smile.
“I love you, Mom, Dad. Merry Christmas. And… I’m sorry, Noah, for not believing you. Santa really did give me a special gift last night.”
At the end of the night, they all sat in the living room while Selma confessed her whole “spy plan” to catch their parents. Her parents laughed so hard they nearly spilled their cocoa, and Noah just grinned. For Selma, it didn’t matter anymore—because in her heart, Santa was real.
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