for my godson Geoffrey
Janey danced in a circle around Benjamin. She sang and jeered at him.
“He’s making a list,
And checking it twice,
Gonna find out who’s naughty and nice.
Santa Claus is coming to town.
“No Christmas presents for you-oo!
“No Christmas presents for you-oo!
“’Cause you’re bad!
“He knows when you are sleeping.
He knows when you’re awake.
He knows when you’ve been bad or good.
So be good for goodness’ sake.
“No Christmas presents for you-oo!
“No Christmas presents for you-oo!
“’Cause you’re bad!”
That night Benjamin couldn’t sleep. A voice kept saying very quietly, “You’re not a good boy. You do bad things.”
“I am too a good boy,” replied Benjamin.
“Not really,” said the voice. “You know your mother and father are disappointed in you. You know you do bad things.”
“I am too a good boy,” said Benjamin.
But Benjamin really didn’t believe what he was saying. He believed the voice. He was a bad boy. He was a disappointment to his parents. He wouldn’t get any presents for Christmas.
The next day Benjamin tried hard to be good. Whenever his mother or father told him to do something, he did it right away. His mother told him to clean his room, so he ran upstairs, put his toys away, picked up his dirty clothes and put them in the laundry hamper, collected all his crayon drawings and put them in his drawers, straightened out his clothes in the closet, and even tried to make his bed. When his mother came upstairs, she started to say something and then stopped, looked all around the room, looked at Benjamin in a funny kind of way and said, “Why, Benjamin, how nice! You did a very good job! Thank you.”
Benjamin smiled and thought to himself, “See! I am too a good boy! I will get presents for Christmas!”
But it was awfully hard being good, so pretty soon Benjamin forgot. That’s when he got into trouble.
It happened like this.
Benjamin’s grandmother collected vases. Everywhere she went grandmother came home with vases — big vases and little vases, red vases and yellow vases, plain vases and fancy vases, vases that looked like people and vases that had stories painted on them, vases from China and vases from Iowa, vases of every kind. One afternoon when Benjamin came home from school his mother was putting a big, funny-looking vase on the dining room table.
“Now you stay away from that vase, Benjamin,” she said. “It’s for your grandmother, and I don’t want you to get anywhere near it.”
Then she went into the kitchen. Benjamin looked at the vase. He couldn’t see it very well from across the room. What kind of vase was it? What were those markings on it? Maybe he could get up a little closer to see. He knew he shouldn’t. His mother had told him not to get anywhere near it. But it wouldn’t hurt just to get up close. He wouldn’t even touch it.
So Benjamin walked carefully over to the table, stretched up on tip-toes, put his elbows on the edge of the table and leaned forward to look at the vase. It was a wonderful vase! It had beautiful little drawings all over it — animals and birds and trees and flowers. He was very careful not to touch it and not to move. When he finished looking, he backed away carefully, but his elbows dragged against the table cloth and the next thing you knew — bang! crash! — the vase fell off the table and broke into pieces! Benjamin’s mother came running into the dining room.
“Oh, Benjamin!” she screeched. “How could you! I just got done telling you not to! You bad boy! Grandmother’s vase!”
And she started to cry.
Now Benjamin became sure he would receive no presents for Christmas. He was a bad boy and bad boys don’t get Christmas presents. He became a very quiet boy during the days just before Christmas. His mother and father kept asking him if he felt all right. Was he sick? Was there something wrong? But he just said he was all right and everything was all right. He felt hopeless. There was nothing he could do, nothing anybody could do.
Usually on Christmas morning Benjamin could hardly contain himself. He would keep running from his room to his parents’ room begging them to hurry and get dressed and come downstairs to see what Santa had brought. But this year he got up quietly and sat on his bed waiting until his parents were ready to go downstairs. He knew that even though there would be no presents for him, he was not supposed to go downstairs until his mother and father said it was all right. His mother came into his room looking worried.
“Is there something wrong, Benjamin?” she asked. “Are you feeling all right?”
“I’m all right, mama.”
Benjamin’s father looked over his mother’s shoulder. “But you seem awfully sad for a little boy on Christmas day, Benjamin. I’ve never seen such a sad-looking little boy. There must be something wrong.”
“Well,” said Benjamin.
“Yes,” said his mother and father.
“Well,” said Benjamin and mumbled something.
“What did you say?” said his mother and father. “We couldn’t hear you.”
“I won’t get — “ said Benjamin and started to cry.
Benjamin’s mother and father looked at each other and came and sat down beside Benjamin on his bed and put their arms around him and said, “Tell us, Benjamin. What is it? What won’t you get?”
“I won’t get any presents,” said Benjamin very quietly.
“You won’t get any presents!” said Benjamin’s father.
“No presents!” said Benjamin’s mother. “Why not?” they both said together.
“Because I’m a bad boy,” said Benjamin.
“A bad boy!” said Benjamin’s mother and father. “You are not a bad boy! You’re a wonderful boy!”
“But I broke grandmother’s vase,” said Benjamin to his mother. “And I made you cry.”
“Oh, Benjamin! Benjamin!” said his mother. “No matter how many vases you break your daddy and I love you. We don’t keep lists of what you do wrong.”
“But the song,” said Benjamin, “the song says Santa keeps a list. He knows when we’ve been bad or good.”
“That song is mean,” said Benjamin’s father. “It’s a mean lie from beginning to end. Santa Claus doesn’t keep lists of bad boys and girls. Your mother and I don’t keep a list, and God doesn’t keep a list.”
“Oh,” said Benjamin.
“Do you know why we give presents on Christmas?” said Benjamin’s father.
“Because Santa Claus comes,” said Benjamin.
“Because God loves us, all of us,” said Benjamin’s father. “He loves everybody — so much he gave us his Son Jesus even when we were being bad. God doesn’t wait for us to be good to love us. He gives us Jesus even when we’re being bad.”
Suddenly Benjamin felt good all over. He sat very quietly for a while. Then he looked at his mother and father, and they looked at him, and he said, “Let’s go downstairs and look at our presents.”
And they did. And Christmas that year was better than any Christmas they had ever had.
Warner White