Page 1 of All I Want for Christmas

Zeke and Zack huddled in the tree house. Important business, any plots or plans, and all punishments for infractions of the rules were discussed in the sturdy wooden hideaway tucked in the branches of the dignified old sycamore.

Today, a light rain tapped on the tin roof and dampened the dark green leaves. It was still warm enough in the first days of September that the boys wore T-shirts. Red for Zeke, blue for Zack.

They were twins, as identical as the sides of a two-headed coin. Their father had used the color code since their birth to avoid confusion.

When they switched colors—as they often did—they could fool anyone in Taylor’s Grove. Except their father.

He was on their minds at the moment. They had already discussed, at length, the anticipated delights and terrors of their first day in real school. The first day in first grade.

They would ride the bus, as they had done the year before, in kindergarten. But this time they would stay in Taylor’s Grove Elementary for a full day, just like the big kids. Their cousin Kim had told them that real school wasn’t a playground.

Zack, the more introspective of the two, had thought over, worried about and dissected this problem for weeks.

There were terrible, daunting terms, like homework and class participation, that Kim tossed around.

They knew that she, a sophomore in high school, was often loaded down with books. Big, thick books with no pictures.

And sometimes, when she was babysitting for them, she had her nose stuck in them for hours. For as long a time as she would have the telephone stuck to her ear, and that was long.

It was pretty scary stuff for Zack, the champion worrier.

Their father would help them, of course.

This was something Zeke, the eternal optimist, had pointed out.

Didn’t they both know how to read stuff like Green Eggs and Ham and The Cat in the Hat because their dad helped them sound out the words?

And they both knew how to write the whole alphabet, and their names and short things, because he had shown them.

The trouble was, he had to work and take care of the house and them, as well as Commander Zark, the big yellow dog they’d saved from the animal shelter two years before.

Their dad had, as Zack pointed out, an awful lot to do.

And now that they were going to go to school, and have assignments and projects and real report cards, he was going to need help.

“He’s got Mrs. Hollis to come in once a week and do stuff.” Zeke ran his miniature Corvette around the imaginary racetrack on the tree-house floor.

“It’s not enough.” A frown puckered Zack’s forehead and clouded his lake blue eyes.

He exhaled with a long-suffering sigh, ruffling the dark hair that fell over his forehead.

“He needs the companionship of a good woman, and we need a mother’s love.

I heard Mrs. Hollis say so to Mr. Perkins at the post office. ”

“He hangs around with Aunt Mira sometimes. She’s a good woman.”

“But she doesn’t live with us. And she doesn’t have time to help us with science projects.” Science projects were a particular terror for Zack. “We need to find a mom.” When Zeke only snorted, Zack narrowed his eyes. “We’re going to have to spell in first grade.”

Zeke caught his lower lip between his teeth. Spelling was his personal nightmare. “How’re we going to find one?”

Now Zack smiled. He had, in his slow, careful way, figured it all out. “We’re going to ask Santa Claus.”

“He doesn’t bring moms,” Zeke said with the deep disdain that can only be felt by one sibling for another. “He brings toys and stuff. And it’s forever until Christmas, anyway.”

“No, it’s not. Mrs. Hollis was bragging to Mr. Perkins how she already had half her Christmas shopping done. She said how looking ahead meant you could enjoy the holiday.”

“Everybody enjoys Christmas. It’s the best.”

“Uh-uh. Lots of people get mad. Remember how we went to the mall last year with Aunt Mira and she complained and complained about the crowds and the prices and how there weren’t any parking spaces?”

Zeke merely shrugged. He didn’t look back as often, or as clearly, as his twin, but he took Zack at his word. “I guess.”

“So, if we ask now, Santa’ll have plenty of time to find the right mom.”

“I still say he doesn’t bring moms.”

“Why not? If we really need one, and we don’t ask for too much else?”

“We were going to ask for two-wheelers,” Zeke reminded him.

“We could still ask for them,” Zack decided. “But not a bunch of other things. Just a mom and the bikes.”

It was Zeke’s turn to sigh. He didn’t care for the idea of giving up his big, long list. But the idea of a mother was beginning to appeal. They’d never had one, and the mystery of it attracted. “So what kind do we ask for?”

“We got to write it down.”

Zack took a notebook and a stubby pencil from the table pushed against the wall. They sat on the floor and, with much argument and discussion, composed.

Dear Santa,

We have been good.

Zeke wanted to put in very good, but Zack, the conscience, rejected the idea.

We feed Zark and help Dad. We want a mom for Crissmas.

A nice one who smells good and is not meen.

She can smile a lot and have yello hair.

She has to like little boys and big dogs.

She wont mind dirt and bakes cookys. We want a pretty one who is smart and helps us with homework.

We will take good care of her. We want biks a red one and a bloo one.

You have lots of time to find the mom and make the biks so you can enjoi the hollidays. Thank you. Love, Zeke and Zack.