A round of golf might be the answer, good for flexibility as well as toning up the old body a bit. But it took only a few minutes to cross that off the list. First, how could he hit that tiny ball down there somewhere by his feet, when his belly blocked his view. And those oozing rolls of fat just wouldn’t twist enough to allow him to swing his club. Christmas had never been cancelled before, but that would surely happen if he injured himself.

The week passed more quickly than it takes reindeer to fly around the world. It was time to answer Sam’s letter. Santa was faced with a dilemma, how could he explain his situation? As he sunk into the comfortable chair at his desk, the latest mail delivery distracted him. A pretty pink letter, sitting right at the top, caught his attention. He picked it up and opened it. Fluttering fairies danced around the edges of the letter. The handwriting was neat and tiny. His face started beaming after reading only a few words..

Dear Santa,

I love you. I love your big chubby cheeks and your wobbly jelly belly. You look so kind, as kind as my favourite cuddly teddy. I wish I could sit on your knee, but Mummy says I mustn’t do that any more.

I’ll leave you a glass of chocolate milk and some of Mummy’s yummy home-baked cookies on Christmas Eve. If you want to leave me something in return, that will be great – not a skipping rope though, I’m not too fond of skipping.

Your best friend,

Jessie.

Santa’s cheeks and chins wobbled in delight. Yes, he thought, there must be others who think like Jessie, others who know some things must never change. The sparkle returned to his eyes and his nose twitched as it caught a wonderful smell, the smell of home baking wafting from the kitchen. Easing himself up out of his chair, he decided to go and investigate. My stomach needs some exercise he chuckled, as waddled towards his most favourite room in the house. His whole body tingled in time to the music of clanging oven trays.

He had always thought that downsizing was a silly word.