Once a year, on the night before Christmas, Santa Claus visited every home to bring sweet treats to children all over the world. He was a kindly old man with a gray beard whose sole aim was to spread joy and happiness. Last winter was no different. Santa climbed into his sleigh packed with gift bags, said farewell to his helpers, and, as the sun set, his reindeer lifted the sleigh into the sky.
“It’s going to be a demanding night,” Santa sighed. “There are more and more good children. It will take a long time to deliver to all of them.” Pulled by twelve reindeer, the sleigh was as fast as lightning. Santa scratched his beard, and before long he was landing on the first roof. Quietly, so as not to wake anyone, he slipped inside.
Stockings by the fireplace hung neatly in a row. He smiled; it always cheered him when children hung stockings by the fireplace. Into each one he placed a gift filled with sweets and fruit, then cheerfully hopped back into the sleigh. Before the hour hand had scarcely moved, Santa had already delivered gifts to the children in the first village. He flew from village to village, city to city, and country to country.
It was midnight when Santa landed on the roof of a little wooden cottage nestled beneath the mountains. Inside, he checked the stockings by the fireplace—they were hung with care. “There are good children here too, and they deserve a reward,” Santa muttered under his breath. “But what is that wonderful smell?” He looked around and saw a heaping plate of freshly baked Christmas cookies on the table.
“I’ll just taste one. No one will notice,” he told himself, and reached for the biggest cookie. It was perfect. A craving for another—and another—rose in him, and before he knew it, the plate was empty. Horrified, Santa beat a hasty retreat so no one would catch him after devouring all the cookies.
The moment he stepped into the next house, an even sweeter aroma overwhelmed him. Drool ran down his gray beard; he had an enormous hankering for cookies. He grabbed five in each hand and tossed them into his mouth. Their fantastic flavor made him long for even more treats. “I’ve eaten everything here already—I’d better hurry to the next house,” he said, wiping his mustache, dusted with powdered sugar.
In the houses that followed, he ate every last cookie, and still it wasn’t enough. When all the goodies were gone and his sweet tooth still wasn’t satisfied, he started in on the gift bags prepared for the children. He opened the first and ate the chocolate and candy. The second held nut cookies. From the third he pulled out lollipops and swallowed them whole. In that village there wasn’t a single house with anything left on the table.
“I have to go to the next village. Their tables will be full of cookies too,” Santa thought, climbing into the sleigh. When the reindeer tried to pull, it was hard going. “What’s this, my reindeer? Don’t feel like pulling?” he scolded, though he now weighed about a hundred kilos more than before. The reindeer dug in, and the sleigh crept forward. Soon they were in the next village.
Santa went from house to house, eating cookies everywhere. He was so greedy he poured them straight from the plates into his mouth and chased them with sweets from the gift bags. The more villages and towns he visited, the fatter he grew. At the last house, he barely squeezed through the door. It was spotless and cozy, and by the fireplace eight neatly hung stockings waited for Santa Claus’s gifts. On the table lay only a few nuts and some apples.
“This is how they honor Santa Claus? With nuts and apples? I’ll at least eat these eight gift bags full of sweets,” grumbled the sweet‑toothed Santa, and he ate everything in the bags meant for eight children. As big as a balloon now, he tried to leave. To his surprise, he couldn’t fit through the door. His enormous belly was so full it seemed to take up half the room. As he twisted and turned, trying to get out, he knocked a plate to the floor.
“I hope I didn’t wake anyone,” Santa thought, alarmed. “Good evening, Santa,” came a gentle little girl’s voice behind him. “G‑g‑good evening to you too, little one,” he stammered to the barefoot child. “But I didn’t eat your cookies—there weren’t any when I came,” he protested.
“We didn’t have any cookies,” the girl said with a smile. “But if you’d like, I can bring you some from the pantry.” “Really? I certainly wouldn’t say no to one or two cookies,” Santa said, licking his lips. When the girl brought him a whole bowl, he opened his mouth and poured them in. And then… his belly couldn’t take it any longer—and pop!
“Good morning,” Santa suddenly heard a voice at his side. Sweaty and startled, he opened his eyes and looked around. He was lying in his bed in his house beyond the Arctic Circle, with his helper elves standing nearby. He immediately checked his belly—it was fine. Overjoyed, he leaped from bed and, with a broad smile, cried out, “It was only a dream!”