Scott was five years old this Christmas and he was looking forward to climbing up onto Santa’s knee at Northgate Mall and asking for a thousand centimetres of rope. It did not matter that both he and Santa had to wear a mask and that there was a Plexiglas partition - his wish list only had one item. Santa’s helper had heard many strange requests for Christmas presents over the years but never had he been asked to bring a thousand centimetres of rope.
Santa did some quick math and came up with about 33 feet but then realized the youngster likely had no idea how many centimetres were in a thousand. “Are you sure you don’t want a bicycle or an electric train?” Santa asked.
“No thanks – all I want is a thousand centimetres of rope,” serious Scott replied. “My Mom sent you a text.”
Santa glanced at the boy’s mother who only rolled her eyes in acknowledging she had been asked to write a Santa letter requesting a thousand centimetres of rope. Santa took out his cell phone and pretended to scroll through the messages. “Ah, yes, here it is. Scott: 1,000 centimetres of rope! Whatever will you do with a thousand centimetres of rope?”
“Oh, you can do many, many things with a thousand centimetres of rope! I can pull things, like my little wagon; I can make a lasso; I can even make a swing for us on the old maple tree in our back yard; I can tie things together so they won’t fall apart and I can even practice my knots,” Scott assured the old gentleman. The Cub Scouts, socially distanced and wearing masks, were working on their Knots Badge every Monday in the church basement on McIntyre Street.
“Well, we’ll see what we can do, Scott,” Santa said, “Merry Christmas.”
Christmas Eve, the family opened their gifts and there was no rope, but Scott knew that Santa would be arriving later in the night, and when they awoke in the morning there would be new gifts under the tree.
Alas, Santa seemed to have forgotten the rope and brought him a wind-up red fire truck complete with a ladder and hose, which was okay, but the disappointment was evident on the five-year-old face. The three of them were going to his aunt’s place for Christmas dinner. There would be six of them for dinner, well within the rules for Christmas gatherings in the northern green zone. During the Christmas morning telephone call his mother mentioned the missing rope to her brother. Uncle Jim said he thought he had some rope in his shed and maybe they could find a way to get it to Scott.
Scott tried to keep a happy face even though he was still hoping that Santa might have delivered the rope to his cousin’s place, but no, only a bag of marbles, which was okay. Just before they were getting ready to leave, Uncle Jim yelled, “Did you hear that?” and ran from the house. By the time Scott had time to react, Uncle Jim, out of breath, returned indoors. “I thought I heard something flying over the house, and sure enough, there was something. But it was too far away for me to make it out. It didn’t look like an airplane – I wonder what it was.”
“I’ll bet it was Santa!” Scott said. “He came back with my rope! I knew he forgot it last night!”
And sure enough, there on the hood of their car was a coil of ¼” sash cord, tied with a red ribbon - almost a thousand centimetres of rope. Never was a boy so happy.
