


The Reindeer in My Shed
On Christmas morning there is a reindeer in the shed. It missed the sleigh, it cannot get home on its own, and nobody else has noticed.
12 pages · hardcover 8×8" (20×20cm)
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Every word, start to finish. The pictures come next — painted around your child, from one photo.
For Theo, who rang every bell in the house.
Dedication
Christmas morning, early, before anybody. Something was banging in the shed, and it was not the wind. The wind does not knock things over and then apologize. Theo took the flashlight and went out.
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A reindeer. In the shed. A real one, huge and steaming, wedged between the mower and the flowerpots, with one antler caught in the hose and a very embarrassed expression. The sleigh had gone on without it.
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Theo stood on the bucket and got the hose off, one loop at a time. The reindeer stood up, all of it, more and more of it. The shed got considerably smaller.
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“Off you go, then,” said Theo, and opened the gate to the whole wide sky. The reindeer looked at the sky. The reindeer looked at Theo. The reindeer did not go.
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Maybe it needed a running start. So Theo built it a runway out of planks, a wheelbarrow and most of the snow in the yard, angled at the sky, with a flag at the end for confidence.
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It ran the whole length beautifully, reached the end, and kept going along the ground, throwing snow, ears flat, all the way to the fence. Reindeer, it turns out, do not all fly. Some of them just pull.
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They tried walking north, which is where home was, roughly. They got as far as the mailbox before the light went and the snow started keeping score on the reindeer's back.
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A whole year until the sleigh came around again. Three hundred and sixty-four breakfasts of hay. Theo sat on the step beside it and thought about how the sleigh finds anything at all, in the dark, in the snow.
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Bells. It finds things by bells. Theo went through the house collecting every one: bicycle bells, the doorbell button, jars of coins, the triangle from the school bag. He tied the lot along the fence and shook it.
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The noise went up and out over the roofs and kept going, ragged and bright, the worst carol ever rung. The reindeer lifted its head. Somewhere far past the chimneys, something turned around.
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It came in low over the rooftops, twelve hours late and going the wrong way, and stopped in the yard for exactly one reindeer. What was said between the harness bells was short, and none of Theo's business.
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In the morning the yard was flat snow and hoofprints, and the runway was scattered. On the step sat one small brass bell, still warm. It rings once a year, all on its own, the night before.
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