Ten-year-old Joe was buzzing with excitement. Christmas was just around the corner, and this year, he planned to ask Santa for something truly special. His artwork had been shining bright at school, and his teacher praised him for his undeniable talent in painting, urging him to invest extra time into honing his skills.
What always fascinated Joe about Santa’s gifts was the twist of fate that seemed to accompany them. Last year, he had his heart set on a battery-operated car like the one his friend Jibin received, only to find himself gifted a simple, battery-free zoom car instead. “Why doesn’t Santa ever give me what I really want?” he would pout, unaware of the financial challenges his parents faced. A year ago, his father had lost his job due to a major layoff, and ever since, he had been tirelessly searching for stable employment. Meanwhile, his mother, a caretaker, was doing her best to keep the family afloat with her small income.
“Listen, Joe,” his mother, attempted to explain, “Santa does his best to fulfill your wishes, but sometimes, he gets overwhelmed and grabs whatever he can from his enormous sack while delivering gifts.” This reasoning didn’t sit well with Joe; he argued that Jibin always got everything he asked for. Little did he know that Jibin’s parents had a much more comfortable financial situation.
This year, Joe had wished for a set of twelve colors, brushes and a canvas stand. “I really hope Santa gets it right this time! I want to enter the interdistrict painting competition, and my teacher thinks I have a good shot at winning state,” he exclaimed, his eyes wide with hope as his parents exchanged glances filled with concern.
They weren’t in a position to accommodate it. Yet, the look of anticipation on Joe’s face tugged at their hearts.
On Christmas morning, Joe was overjoyed to see that Santa had indeed brought him everything he wished for. “Look, Mom and Dad! Santa gave me the ultimate painting kit! I’m going to win first prize!” he beamed, enveloped in joyful hugs from his parents.
The next day, Joe eagerly showed off his new treasures to his teacher and friends. When Jibin caught sight of the gifts, he said casually, “Oh, so you got them. My dad lent your parents some money to buy these gifts.”
Confusion clouded Joe’s mind. “Why would my parents need to borrow money for Santa’s gifts?”
“Come on, grow up! Santa’s just a myth. It’s our parents who buy us gifts,” an older boy chimed in, chuckling.
A wave of betrayal washed over Joe as the reality sunk in—there was no Santa, and all those gifts had come from his parents. His heart ached. He had been so focused on his requests and complaints, not realizing that his family couldn’t afford such luxuries.
Joe resolved to go home and talk to his parents about returning the paint set. They could gift him something within their means.