"Don’t cry, Johnny, Baby Jesus surely hasn’t forgotten you. Perhaps he is feeling unwell, or maybe he just didn’t manage to come to us,” his parents tried helplessly to console him.
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Johnny sat by the tree in tears, heartbroken at the sight of the empty space beneath it. He had been so certain that Baby Jesus would bring him the little things he had been dreaming of all year. He had written them carefully in a neat letter at the start of December. But the letter must have been lost, and so Baby Jesus never learned what Johnny secretly wished for.
When Christmas was over and the New Year had begun, Johnny and his father set out to search for the missing letter. It had been his father’s job to post it on his way back from work. Johnny was certain his dad must have muddled it somehow. His mum often said she had “two forgetful ones at home – one little and one big”.
Their first stop was the post office, in case the letter had ended up there and somehow been sent to Baby Jesus after all. The lady at the counter was kind, but explained that such letters go straight to heaven. And with so many children (and parents) writing letters before Christmas, she couldn’t possibly remember if Johnny’s father had come in or not.
Johnny’s face fell. Now he would never know if his letter had reached Baby Jesus. The post lady noticed his sorrow. She bent down and pulled from her drawer a beautiful blue cap with a golden trumpet shining on it.156Please respect copyright.PENANAcInxDZg5FN
“This is for you,” she said. “You must wear it whenever you write a letter – whether to Baby Jesus or to your friends. That way, neither you nor your dad will ever forget to send it off straight away.”
Johnny’s eyes lit up as he thanked her for the gift. None of his friends had anything like a real postman’s cap! From that moment on he decided he would write weekly letters and postcards to his grandparents, just to he could wear it proudly.
Then Dad remembered that before going to the post office, he had stopped at the shop. Perhaps he had dropped the letter there, and one of the shop assistants had found it? Inside, by the shelves of kitchen goods, they met the manager.156Please respect copyright.PENANAkZhvTc6oDl
“Have you found my letter to Baby Jesus?” asked Johnny.156Please respect copyright.PENANA7rHU0aYr3c
The manager stopped stacking goods and looked at him with surprise. Johnny’s father explained the situation, but she shook her head. “There have been so many customers since then, and surely someone would have noticed an envelope on the floor. But wait – I’ll ask my colleagues if a customer might have handed it in.” She left and returned a few moments later, shaking her head. No letter. Johnny sighed and turned to leave, but the manager stopped him.156Please respect copyright.PENANA7rqUmQbvbb
“We may not have your letter but look what I do have for you. This is the last one, and now Christmas is over nobody will buy it,” she said, handing Johnny a beautiful white mug decorated with a Christmas tree. Johnny was delighted, for he had broken his old mug long ago and had been drinking tea from a plain one ever since. This new one was big, sturdy and wonderfully colourful.
Dad then suggested they check his workplace, since he had been there the whole day before going to the post office. Perhaps the letter had been left behind. At the office they found Dad’s colleague Martin, working at his computer. As soon as he heard the story, he stopped everything to help them search. They checked drawers, shifted files, and even looked through bins in case the letter had been lost among waste paper. Meanwhile Martin began chatting with Johnny.156Please respect copyright.PENANA0yDFQWRvq8
“And what did you write in the letter?” he asked.156Please respect copyright.PENANAFok7nQ6TJX
Johnny admitted that his biggest wish had been for a Lego racing car. Martin smiled warmly– he had loved Lego as a child too. In fact, he still had some unused sets at home, as his own children were now grown and at university. He invited Johnny to come and play sometime, and both father and son gladly agreed.
Weeks passed, and Easter was drawing near. Johnny finally finished building the enormous Lego racing car Martin had given him. With pride and a sparkle in his eyes, he placed the postman’s cap on his head, took a sip of tea from the Christmas mug he now used every day, and began writing Easter postcards to his grandparents, the shop manager, the post lady and Martin.
From the doorway, his father watched, realising that his son had received far more gifts than he had ever dreamed of.


