Santa Needs to Diet

Santa Needs to Diet

Santa pulls on his red snowsuit and wrestles his boots into place. He waddles toward the ski lift at the North Pole’s only mountain resort, Frosty Peaks. The elf running the lift, Pip, watches him coming and looks worried.

“You sure about this, Santa? That chair isn’t built for all that cheer.”

Santa laughs and pats his belly. He sits down and the chair dips low, almost scraping the snow. Pip yelps and fiddles with the controls while Santa waves, legs swinging, not a care in the world.

The ride up is calm enough. Elves race past on tiny skis, bells clinking as they jump and spin. Santa waves back, feeling rather proud of himself. If he can travel the world in one night, skiing can’t be that hard. At the top, that feeling fades. The slope drops away fast. Tall pine trees line the run and suddenly look far too close. Santa stands there a moment, beard stirring in the cold air, wondering when this seemed like a good idea. He grips his poles and pushes off.

For a couple of seconds, it works. Snow sprays behind him, the wind rushes through his beard, and he laughs a deep ho ho ho. Then his ski hits a hidden bump and Santa starts rolling. Red suit flashing, gathering snow with every turn, until he looks more like a moving snowbank than Santa Claus. He bumps off a bank, sends a few rabbits scattering, and finally stops outside a small cabin with smoke drifting from the chimney.

Inside, the Miller family is eating breakfast. Pancakes stacked high, bacon crackling, apple cider steaming. A heavy thud hits the door. They open it and find a snowball on the step with a white beard poking out. They stare, then laugh. Santa climbs free, brushing off snow and straightening his hat. The Millers invite him straight in. Lily and Tom hover nearby, eyes wide.

“We didn’t think Santa did breakfast visits,” Tom says.

Santa sits in a chair that groans under him and eats pancakes like he hasn’t seen food in weeks. Between bites, he tells stories about the reindeer, including the time Blitzen ate all the elves’ cookies and paid for it later.

The morning drifts by. Santa helps the children build a snowman that looks just like him, red scarf, old black top hat from the attic. He teaches them a silly reindeer dance with stomping feet and waving arms. Laughter carries across the snow.

A loud thump shakes the roof. Then another. Outside, the reindeer peer down, ears up, breath clouding the air. Rudolph’s nose glows bright as Dasher calls out.“We’ve been looking for you, Santa. Everyone thought you were practising.” Santa laughs. “Plans changed. Come down. There are pancakes left and carrots for you.”

The reindeer climb down carefully, avoiding the snowman. Comet tries the dance, trips, and lands face first in the snow. Everyone laughs until it hurts. Santa rubs Rudolph’s nose. “Tomorrow we skip the skis. We take the sleigh over the mountain instead. Nice and low so everyone can see us.”

The reindeer snort in agreement, tails swishing. And just like that, a bad idea turns into a day worth remembering. Proof that some of the best moments happen when nothing goes right.

I think the extra fun in the story made him a tad lighter. It’s not easy to get a man like Santa to trim down. What you you give him to lower his colestral a little? and get him jolly but fighting fit ? Maybe Mrs Clause could help? any tips that could be passed to her please leave in the comments.

Merry Christmas to all of you that read this ♥️💙♥️