by Tom Fletcher
As he spoke, the great shabby dog bounded over to Brenda, jumped up, and gave her a big, wet, happy lick across her face.
“Santa, do you really mean it? I can keep him?” asked Brenda excitedly.
“Well, I believe I owe you a present. You are on the Nice List now, after all! As long as you promise to give him a happy home,” said Santa.
“Of course I will! I love him!” said Brenda, and she gave Growler the first hug he’d ever had, which seemed to melt away all the rottenness inside him.
The Christmasaurus let out a happy roar as William wheeled himself around so that he was face to face with his dinosaur friend.
It was time to say goodbye—again.
“You can come and visit us whenever you want to. Just be sure to let Santa know first, OK?” said William, and the Christmasaurus nodded.
They hugged each other, and it was one of those hugs that only best friends give. Even though they didn’t know when they would see each other again, they knew that a friend is for life, not just for Christmas.
“CHRISTMASAURUS!” Santa boomed. “I do believe there’s room for a certain dinosaur up front.”
He pointed to an empty harness at the front of the team of magnificent reindeer.
The Christmasaurus looked at the sleigh.
Then back at Santa with his wondrously icy-blue eyes.
“Yes, you heard me correctly, you silly sausage. I’ve been flying this sleigh one man down for thirty years—or should I say one deer down! Now, do you want to pull the sleigh or not?” Santa said as the Christmasaurus bounced around with excitement. “Come on, then! Let’s get you strapped up!”
The Christmasaurus leapt over and lined himself up proudly in front of the magnificent reindeer. Santa strapped the enormous sleigh-belled harness over his shoulders, and a sort of warm, magical tingle ran from the top of the Christmasaurus’s head all the way down his blue snowflake-covered back to the tip of his tail! Santa took a step back, and they all admired the Christmasaurus. He wasn’t a reindeer. He was still different. But he was just as magnificent—maybe even more so.
“Let’s go home!” Santa cried, and he jumped into his sleigh and wound up the shiny golden gramophone for the last time.
As William, Mr. Trundle, Brenda, and Growler watched the sleigh start to softly float on the music, a worried voice called out.
“Brenda!”
Miss Payne was scurrying toward them, dressed in polka-dotted pajamas and a flowery robe, her prettiness hidden behind a look of panic and worry.
“I heard noises, gunshots and roars, and when I looked, you’d gone, and…and…” Miss Payne froze on the spot. She had been so worried about her daughter that she hadn’t noticed the unbelievably impossible sleigh floating over the street in front of them.
“Oh my!” she gasped when she saw it, completely mesmerized, entirely spellbound through and through.
William saw the sparkle of tears well up in her eyes and thought that maybe, just maybe, Miss Payne’s heart might just have thawed completely.
“Merry Christmas!” Santa called as Mr. Trundle, Miss Payne, William, Brenda, and her new dog watched the sleigh glide over the snowy street, pulled by eight magnificent reindeer and a flying dinosaur, to the sound of Santa’s booming singing voice.
As Santa glanced down from the sky above, William thought he caught a glimpse of that knowing smile he’d seen earlier that night. Suddenly, Santa pulled on the reins, and the Christmasaurus made a hard turn to the right, guiding the sleigh directly over their heads.
William had to spin his wheelchair around to keep sight of them, but as he did, he heard an awful, familiar sound.
“That’s my foot!” cried Miss Payne.
As she jumped back, she slipped on the icy street. Just before she landed in a pile of snow, Mr. Trundle caught her in his arms.
William was about to apologize when something stopped him. Just a feeling he got. Instead, he just watched as his dad helped Miss Payne to her feet.
“Thank you,” she said, looking a little embarrassed.
“Don’t mention it,” said Mr. Trundle.
There was a funny little pause and William noticed that since helping Miss Payne to her feet, Mr. Trundle hadn’t let go of her hand.
“I’m Bob. Bob Trundle,” Mr. Trundle said. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“Pamela,” Miss Payne replied.
“Well, merry Christmas, Pamela!” said Mr. Trundle with the same silly tip of his invisible top hat. William rolled his eyes, but this time Miss Payne didn’t ignore him or cross the street to get away.
“Merry Christmas, Bob,” she said, and blushed.
Perhaps it was the magic of the music falling from Santa’s sleigh like a blanket of snow, or maybe Mr. Trundle was feeling particularly jolly because it was Christmas. Whatever the reason, William couldn’t quite believe what happened next.
“Shall we?” Mr. Trundle said as he offered Miss Payne his arm to dance.
“Oh…I…er, I really don’t usually dance,” spluttered Miss Payne nervously.
“Neither do I!” Mr. Trundle said with a little chuckle, which made them both laugh.
She took his arm. And so, for the second time that Christmas, William saw his father happily dancing in the wintry air.
“This is turning into the best Christmas ever!” Brenda said as she stood next to William with her new pet. “I never want it to end!”
“That’s the wonderful thing about Christmas,” William said as his dad spun Miss Payne beautifully over the snow. “Every second away from last Christmas is one second closer to the next.”
The elves have got in a bit of a pickle.
Find the right rhyme or change it a little…
“What type of dinosaur?”
“What’s its ____?”
“Is it dangerous?”
“Or is it ____?”
“If it’s a girl, can we call her ____?”
“I think it’s a boy! Look, he’s got a ____!”
TAME
THINGY
GINNY
NAME
It’s the night before the night before Christmas,
The worst night of the year.
There’s far too much to do,
And it fills us up with _______.
It doesn’t look like we’ll make it
But we’ve brought this on ourselves,
So if Christmas doesn’t come,
You can blame the North Pole _______.
It’s the night before the night before Christmas,
And we’re busier than ever before.
There are toys up to our _______,
And our hands and feet are sore.
But you don’t hear us complaining—
We sing our troubles away—
While saddling up the _______
To the still-not-ready sleigh!
It’s the night before the night before Christmas,
No time for toilet breaks.
We’ve got microscopic fingers
So we might make some _______.
But as long as the job gets finished,
And Santa gets on his way,
We’ll be happier than the kiddies
Getting toys on _______!
EYEBALLS
MISTAKES
ELVES
CHRISTMAS DAY
REINDEER
FEAR
My wondrous little North Pole elves,
You must congratulate _______
For I believe beyond a doubt
A miracle has come about.
It’s sitting right here on the floor
Looking like no other _______.
&nbs
p; Another year you’ve served me well,
Through good times and the tough as well.
But I shall not forget the night
An egg was dug up from the ice.
And here he sits, this nameless _______,
With such fantastic festive features
That there is just one name for him—
Come one, come all, come hear me sing….
This Christmas dinosaur before us
Shall henceforth be known as the _______!
CREATURE
YOURSELVES
CHRISTMASAURUS
DINOSAUR
I heard a noise on the rooftop!
It made my heart go jump!
The stomp of boots and the clop of hooves
Went clippedy, clippedy, clump!
Oh, I heard a noise on the rooftop!
I wonder what it was….
I really ho, ho, hope it’s Santa Claus!
I heard a noise on the rooftop!
It sounded like a sleigh….
I went to bed on Christmas Eve,
and now it’s Christmas Day!
Oh, I heard a noise on the rooftop!
I wonder what it was….
I really ho, ho, hope it’s Santa Claus!
All the sleigh bells that go jingle
Are making that jingle noise,
And the man they call Kris Kringle
Is bringing me lots of toys!
Oh, I heard a noise on the rooftop!
Now I can’t sleep because
I really ho, ho, hope it’s Santa…
Ho, ho, ho, ho, hope it’s Santa…
Really ho, ho, hope it’s Santa Claus!
The music! Christmas songs rule. Full stop. I have “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas” on repeat from mid-July.
Food, and lots of it. I love everything about festive food. Even food I don’t like—give it a Christmassy name and some magical packaging, and it’s in my shopping basket. Rename mixed nuts the “Festive Mix” and SOLD! What even is a figgy pudding? Who cares! Nom nom nom.
Christmas movies. We all know the ones I’m talking about. Elf, Home Alone (1 AND 2), White Christmas, Miracle on 34th Street…the list goes on and on and on.
The Snowman. The Snowman deserves to be listed on its own. I’m talking about both the book and the film. I have loved it since I was a little boy, and watching my son Buzz fall in love with it last Christmas and asking me to lift him up so that he could fly like the Snowman was an incredible moment.
TV commercials. I know what you’re thinking: Who in their right mind gets excited about TV ads? ME, that’s who. Companies have been majorly upping their game these last few years, but there are some classics that always let you know the holidays are coming…holidays are coming…
Christmas Eve. I don’t care that I’m in my thirties—I still get excited on Christmas Eve. It’s by far the most magical night of the year, and I remember exactly how it felt when I was a kid. I’m loving the fact that I get to experience it again through my own kids now.
Friends and family. It goes without saying that it’s the time of year you make that extra effort to see those people you don’t see as often as you should. When I think back on all my favorite Christmas memories, they’re filled with my family or my friends—so I guess they deserve to be on the list.
Christmas dinner. I’m listing this separately from the other festive food because this meal is the ultimate. I’ve been in charge of the big meal for the last few years, and although I had a disaster with the gravy a while back, on the whole I think I’ve got pretty good at it. Of course, you have to make a few practice meals in the weeks/months leading up to it, just to be safe.
Streetlights. Our local main street has used the same Christmas lights for at least the last ten years, probably longer. They aren’t anything special, really, but that doesn’t stop them from filling me with Christmas awesomeness the moment they are switched on. I always drive the long way home in December just so I get to see them. One year they tested them out in the summer in the middle of the night, and I managed to get a sneaky look at them early. I was happy.
Last but not least, fake Christmas trees. Wait—did I just say fake? Yes, you read that right. Believe it or not, I’m pretty sure I have a mild allergy to Christmas trees. (Yes, that makes me very sad.) It doesn’t affect me badly, but having a real one in the house for over a month has caused me some serious issues. So I am REALLY grateful to whoever thought up the idea of fake Christmas trees. We’ve had the same one for as long as we have lived in our house, and even though it’s looking a little shabby these days, it wouldn’t be Christmas without it. (I still risk the allergy and sometimes have a small real tree in the kitchen…can’t help myself.)
The story of Whizz-Kidz started with a bloke in a bike shop.
It was 1989, and our founder, Mike Dickson, was at work in his shop when he saw a girl in a wheelchair looking up at a bike light on the shelf above her. Mike asked if he could help, but the girl politely replied, “No thanks, I can reach it myself,” pushed a button on her powered wheelchair and rose up to pick the light off the shelf.
It was at that moment that Mike understood the difference the right wheelchair can make to a child’s life. Because to that little girl, that small action—getting something off a high shelf—meant something far bigger. It meant independence.
Mike set out to run the London Marathon and raise enough money to pay for a single powered wheelchair for a child who needed it. By the time he crossed the finish line, he’d raised £9,000 for a girl with cerebral palsy. One year later, Whizz-Kidz was born.
Since then, Whizz-Kidz has transformed the lives of more than 20,000 disabled children, providing them with life-changing mobility equipment to give them the best possible start in life.
Today, we do so much more than providing equipment to young disabled people; our youth clubs, wheelchair skills training, residential camps and work placements each contribute to helping young disabled people make friends, have fun, learn life skills and, ultimately, achieve their true potential.
We still have a long way to go, and many thousands of children are still waiting for the right equipment to give them freedom, independence and hope. But we are extremely proud of all we have achieved, and we are incredibly grateful to all of our supporters—including Tom—who have made our achievements possible.
Together, we’ll continue working to achieve our vision that all disabled children’s lives are full of fun, friendship and hope for an independent future. Just like any other kid’s.
www.whizz-kidz.org.uk
Firstly, thanks to Shane Devries, whose incredibly magical illustrations have brought my story to life in ways I couldn’t even have dreamed of.
Thanks to Michael Gracey; without you and your incredible vision, we wouldn’t have found Shane and we wouldn’t have the most awesome-looking dinosaur on the planet. I can’t wait for what’s to come next for the Christmasaurus!
Thanks to my agent, Stephanie Thwaites, who was the first person to really take us seriously when Dougie and I wanted to write books about a pooping dinosaur. It’s been a super-fun journey with you since that first meeting. Thank you for always being so awesome!
Thanks to Dougie for co-creating our pooping dinosaur, who inadvertently pooped out this one, and to Danny and Harry for injuring themselves, causing our tour to be postponed, which gave me more time to work on this book.
I cannot even begin to thank my editor, Natalie Doherty, enough. The whole editing process was so much fun, and I learned so much from you. Thanks for pushing me to keep trying to make it better and better.
Thanks to the whole team of elves at Penguin Random House, who have been so incredibly supportive and lovely to me for the last
five or so years. There are a lot of you, so in the spirit of Christmas, here’s a Nice List that you’re all on (I’ve checked it twice): Amanda Punter, Francesca Dow, Jessica Jackson, Rosamund Hutchison, Andrea Bowie, Alice Broderick, Vanessa Jedrej, Hannah Bourne, Anna Billson, Emily Smyth, Mandy Norman, Samantha Stewart, Zosia Knopp, Camilla Borthwick, Maeve Banham, Susanne Evans, Emma Jones, Ceri Cooper, Sarah Roscoe, Kirsty Bradbury, Tineke Mollemans, Kat Baker, Becki Wells, Chris Wyatt, and Claire Simmonds. Thanks to you all for allowing me to write books. I love it so, so much, and I hope to be writing many more for years to come—please!
I owe an incredible amount of thanks to Fletch. Your belief in me and your passion for this story have been the driving forces that made it a reality. Thanks for all the chats about dreams that are probably impossible and ambitions that are quite certainly unachievable. Those chats never fail to inspire me, and somehow we end up on these journeys where occasionally those impossible, unachievable things actually happen!
Thanks most of all to my wife, Giovanna, for being the inspiration to stop saying “I want to write a novel” and actually getting off my bottom and writing a novel! Thank you for encouraging my obsession with Christmas rather than divorcing me because of it, and for generally putting up with my ways, but most importantly for giving me my biggest inspiration of all: our two boys. Buzz and Buddy, this book is for you both.
Lastly, I want to say a HUGE thanks to the whole team at WhizzKidz. When I first decided to write a story about a young wheelchair user, I had no idea of the responsibility I was taking on. Your help, advice, stories, and what you do on a daily basis is so inspiring, and I couldn’t have done this without your support. I truly hope I’ve written something that will make wheelchair users proud and perhaps open the eyes of non-wheelchair users—the way you opened mine. Thank you.
