I'm the shortest kid in class. That's why I get picked on. I hate it. They never give me a chance. Never. Always getting at me about my height.
But I taught them all a lesson.
I didn't mean to do it. Really. It just sort of happened. But it taught them all a lesson, anyway.
And you probably won't believe me either. But I'll tell you. I have to tell someone. I've been hiding the secret for so long now, it's like a big weight.
It started on Christmas Day. Night actually. I was having trouble getting to sleep. Most kids do. The tree was standing in the living room. A real one made of pine needles and gum and wood. It smelled fantastic. And there were presents piled up under it. Lots of them. I've got heaps of uncles and aunts, grandmothers and grandfathers, cousins, nieces, nephews . . . you know what I mean. They always buy me something for Christmas, even if it's socks, or undies, or handkerchiefs. I've got heaps of handkerchiefs.
Anyway, I was lying in bed, half asleep, half awake when I heard it. Hoofs. Clomping about on the roof above me.
I looked out the window. Nothing. I went downstairs and stood on the lawn.
Santa Claus, sleigh and all, balanced on the top of the roof!
I told you this would be hard to believe.
I went back into the house and waited by the tree. Santa was there, stuffing a few more presents under the tree. Really he was! It wasn't my Dad dressed up, or someone else. Real beard and boots. The lot.
He caught me watching him and smiled.
"Ho, ho, ho!" he said quietly, so as not to wake anyone. "You're supposed to be asleep."
"I know," I said. "But I won't tell."
He was a bit flustered.
"Well, I must be off!" he said, and whoosh! He shot up the chimney. He must have used magic. It's a very small chimney, with a pipe up the middle. He wouldn't fit otherwise.