Not every story begins with “once upon a time.” Some begin with a list, a door, and two very small elves who are about to change Christmas forever.
The Naughty List. The Nice List. You’ve heard of them. For as long as Christmas has been Christmas, every child fit neatly into one of two columns. Naughty or Nice. At least, that’s what I thought. But children, I was beginning to realize, are not that simple.
One winter, as lanterns glowed in the rafters and hammers ticked like tiny clocks, I walked the aisles of the workshop and heard voices bouncing off the beams.
“Naughty!” one set of elves shouted.
And across the room, the other elves shouted back, “Nice!”
And back and forth it went. Naughty. Nice. Naughty. Nice. And as they shouted, the ribbons curled the wrong way, the paints dried in the pots, and the sleigh maps stayed blank on the table.
That evening I sat at our kitchen table staring at the two lists as if they might stare back at me.
Mrs. Claus came quietly, as she always does, carrying a cup of cocoa. She sat it by my hand.
“They’re not enough. Some children don’t fall into one or the other, not right away. The elves can’t agree Naughty or Nice, and we fall behind schedule.”
Mrs. Claus looked out the window where the snow was falling softly, and then she said, simply, “If some children don’t belong on Naughty or Nice, put their names aside for a while. Have someone observe and review. And decide after you know more.”
Her words landed as softly as a snowflake.
Observe. Review.
All night, the idea warmed me like a fire.
The next morning I rang the big brass bell and called everyone to the great tree in the center of the workshop. The branches glittered with ornaments: bells, birds, stars, and lanterns. But there, on one sturdy branch, hung an ornament unlike any other.
It was shaped like a tiny wooden door. On its surface, in golden letters:
D. O. O. R.
(Department of Observation & Review)
I raised my voice so even the smallest elf at the back could hear.
“For centuries we have had two lists: Naughty or Nice. But you and I know there are children who puzzle us, a bit of mischief here, a bit of kindness there.”
“So today, I am announcing a third list: The OR List, the list of children who need Observation and Review.”
Gasps and murmurs rippled through the elves.
“This ornament,” I said, pointing to the tiny door, “is the heart of the new department. When a child is placed on the OR List, this little ornament will glow. A name will appear on the door that will be the sign that our new helpers must go and see what is true.”
“Who are our new helpers, you ask? Well, every department needs leaders,” I said. “And I have chosen two.”
From the crowd stepped two very small figures, no taller than a child’s toy.
One was Maple. She had steady eyes and warm hands and seemed to notice the quietest things, especially the little glimmers in a child’s behavior that others missed. The caring glimmer, the shy glimmer, the brave one that flickered only for a second. Maple asked why more than anyone I knew.
The other was Coal. He had a grin that sparked and feet that were quick to the edge of any table. Coal could spot a frostbite moment from across the room, one of those times when someone tries to hide what they really feel.
Together, I thought, they would see what the rest of us missed.
“Maple and Coal,” I said, “you will lead the Department of Observation & Review.”
They looked at one another, surprised, proud, a little scared, and then up at me.
“We’ll do our best,” Maple said softly.
“We’ll be fast,” Coal added, unable to help himself.
The elves laughed, kindly.
We didn’t have to wait long.
That very evening, while the workshop hummed, a silver bell gave a clear, bright ring.
The workshop paused.
Maple’s ears lifted. Coal’s grin sharpened.
Across the branches, one ornament began to shine. It brightened, and a letter began tracing itself across it in glowing gold.
The letter “C.”
“What do we do?” Maple whispered, eyes wide.
Coal leaned in. “We find out what ‘C’ stands for. I hope it stands for ‘chaos.’
From the back came a squeaky voice:
“Ahem! Case file incoming! Presented by Blizzard and Snowflake!”
Coal perked up. “Blizzard and Snowflake?”
Maple tilted her head. “Those sound promising.”
The elves stepped aside.
Out lumbered a polar bear, big as a snowdrift, with a scarf slipping off one shoulder. He carried a tower of folders in his paws, careful not to drop a single one.
Behind him scampered a tiny mouse in a red velvet vest, nose twitching, eyes bright. He stopped beside the bear and puffed out his chest.
“Good evening! I’m Blizzard, head of reports for the Department of Observation & Review! And this,” he pointed up with both paws, “is my assistant, Snowflake!”
Coal’s eyes went wide. “That’s Snowflake?”
Maple blinked. “He’s huge!”
Coal grinned. “Oh, I like these guys.”
Blizzard gave a tiny cough and began climbing up Snowflake’s furry arm, step by step, until he stood tall on the bear’s shoulder like a captain of a ship. He straightened his vest, cleared his throat again, and unrolled a long scroll.
“Case File Number zero-zero-zero-one!” he announced in his most serious voice.
“Codename…”
“Muddy Marshmallow!”
“Mystery! Muddy Mystery!” Blizzard squeaked, stamping his paw.
Snowflake nodded thoughtfully. “Mmmm… marshmallows.”
“Case File zero-zero-zero-one: The Muddy Mystery
Incident One:
Subject Carter pushed to the front of the line, causing another child to stumble.
Incident Two:
Same day, subject shared his lunch with a classmate who had none.
Incident Three:
Parent returned home to find muddy boots across the floor.
Incident Four:
Neighbor discovered their walkway neatly shoveled, though no one confessed.
Status: Conflicting. Naughty? Nice? Unclear. Observation and Review required.
Handing it to Maple and Coal!” Blizzard declared.
Snowflake boomed, “Handing it over for investiga… uhm… giggling!”
“Investigation!” Blizzard squeaked.
“Right. Mmmm. Marshmallows,”
The ornament creaked open, revealing a peppermint-striped slide.
Coal’s eyes widened. Maple swallowed nervously as she stood at the entrance.
Coal gave her a big pat on the back, a little harder than he should have, “Go on, partner!”
The world tilted, stripes blurred, and suddenly, they fell out of a laundry chute into a soft pile of laundry in a faraway house.
Maple sat up first, smoothing her little coat.
Coal’s boots stuck out of a shirt sleeve. “It’s so dark!” he shouted. Maple tried not to laugh.
They scrambled to their feet and listened.
The door to the house opened. The winter air slipped in, cold and full of the smell of snow.
Footsteps.
An adult with grocery bags piled up in her arms entered.
“What on earth? Mud across the floor? How many times have I said boots off at the door!”
Maple and Coal looked across the floor, a trail of brown footprints, big and small, and zigzagging.
“Promising,” Coal whispered, already counting prints like coins. “A whole blizzard of troubled glimmers.”
Maple didn’t answer.
“Carter! Come down here, please.”
A child appeared at the top of the stairs. He looked unsure for a moment, and then brave, and then unsure again, glimmers flickering back and forth like tiny lanterns.
“We have talked about this. Boots stay by the mat. Now go get the mop and bucket.”
“But…” Carter began to answer.
“Now!” his mom responded.
Carter nodded. He was in real trouble, and it sat heavy on his small shoulders.
Coal nodded to himself. “Open-and-shut,” he said, a little too pleased. “Naughty. Case closed.”
Maple did not answer. She watched the boy carefully, noticing a quiet snow glimmer.
Carter set the bucket down with a little clatter and began to mop, pushing the muddy water in careful lines, trying to turn mess into clean.
As he worked, he whispered to himself, and to the floor. And the words pushed through tears.
“I… I shoveled the whole path,” he said, scrubbing a little harder. “Even the steps. I thought you’d be proud.”
He sniffed and blinked quickly. “I thought I did something good.”
The mop slid on the tile.
“But all you saw was the mud.”
Maple’s hand went to her heart.
Coal’s grin faded. He looked out the window, seeing clean steps, snow piled on each side.
“Huh,” he said softly, like a match going out.
Carter finished mopping and set the bucket by the door and moved his boots properly to the mat.
He stood for a second longer, looking out the window at the steps, and then went upstairs without a sound.
Maple and Coal didn’t follow.
They had seen enough.
In the quiet that came after, Maple and Coal looked at each other.
“Rules are rules,” Coal said quietly, but even he didn’t believe it. “Boots off. Mud is… mud.”
Maple nodded. “Yes. Mud is mud.”
“And trouble is trouble,” he added, as if that might help.
She nodded again.
They stood listening to the silence of the house.
And then Maple said, “But kindness is still a glimmer, even when it hides behind a frostbite moment.”
Coal stared at the clean floor. “He really thought he had done a good thing.”
“He did,” Maple said.
Coal scuffed a bit of dried mud with his heel. “All right, maybe not so open-and-shut.”
They stepped to the window and Maple took a tiny silver bell from her coat and gave it a gentle shake.
High above the house, a bright speck turned and grew. Hooves. A laugh like sleigh bells. A small shadow sweeping down through the flakes.
“Good evening!” called Sprig, a miniature reindeer with neat hooves and a tidy scarf, “It’s a lovely night for a dash, isn’t it? Hop aboard!”
A little sled bobbed behind him with the words DoorDasher printed on the side. They climbed in the sled. Sprig shook his antlers, and away they went.
They skimmed the roofs and brushed the tops of trees. Maple held the sled’s edge and watched the town drift by. Coal held the rope and talked faster than the wind.
“Naughty is clear,” he insisted, trying to convince himself more than Maple. “Mud. Boots. Rule.”
“Nice is clearer,” Maple answered gently. “Shoveled path. Safe steps. Love.”
“Fine. Fine. I suppose… I suppose we’ll see what the Big Guy says.”
“Be kind,” Maple said, though she was smiling.
“Oh, I am, I’m just noisy about it.”
Sprig turned left. The North Star shone brightly ahead.
They slid to a stop on the polished floor of the workshop, right in front of my desk. Maple stepped down softly. Coal tumbled, rolled, popped up, and pretended he had meant to.
“How did it go?” I asked, though I could read much of it in their faces.
Coal opened his mouth first. “Nau…” Maple looked at him. He cleared his throat. “We have… observed.”
“And reviewed.”
Coal pointed toward the floor as if the prints were still there. “Mud. Boots. Rule broken. In trouble.”
Maple folded her hands. “But before the mud, Carter shoveled the walkway and the steps. He was proud. He wanted to help.”
Coal’s voice went quieter. “Yea he said so. While… while he cleaned.”
I sat back and stroked my beard. The DOOR’s ornament glowed faintly on the tree behind them.
“For so many years, I have seen only Naughty or Nice. A broken rule is a broken rule.”
I tapped my desk. “But perhaps this is why the OR List exists now, to slow us down a little.”
Coal nodded quickly, comforted by a clear answer.
Maple didn’t nod. Not yet. She was still thinking about all the glimmers she’d seen that didn’t fit neatly anywhere.
I looked at Maple. “You, heard his heart.”
She nodded.
I looked at Coal. “You, saw his choice.”
He nodded too.
“And now, we must choose.”
The room was quiet.
“I believe Carter belongs on the Nice List. He acted with kindness before the mistake. The mistake matters, but the kindness matters too.”
Maple smiled, but only softly, the kind you give when you’re still thinking.
Coal shuffled his boots and tried to look grumpy, but his eyes were bright. “Nice,” he agreed, and then added, almost proudly, “with mud!”
That night, after the tools were put away and the lamps were turned low, I walked once more to the great tree.
I looked up at the DOOR ornament and thought of Carter, the mop, the shining wet floor, the shoveled stairs, the neat boots on the mat.
Two lists had carried us a very long way.
But from that night on, we had a third. A place to pause, to wonder, to see more clearly.
The Department of Observation & Review.
And Maple and Coal, small in size but as big as the truest kind of brave, were its keepers.
I believed, in that quiet moment, that this department would solve the trouble we had seen today.
But Maple stood a few steps behind me, studying the ornament with a thoughtful look, as if some glimmer inside her wasn’t sure this was enough.
Coal watched her, confused but pretending he wasn’t.
From then on, the DOOR bell could ring at any time, and Maple and Coal would be ready. Because sometimes Christmas needs more than Naughty or Nice. Sometimes, it needs to see all the glimmers a child carries.
Excellent story. Addresses such a good topic about children being “good” or “bad” and how these two topics tend to be in all of their souls and hearts. What a great story and looking forward to the next ones you release.
Stephen here!! This should be made into a cartoon!!