Gerry thought about his letter to Santa for three days. Two days left, he realized – better get going or else. Or else what? Would Santa forget him? What if there were no letters from anyone? Gerry wondered. He got out paper and a crayon, but couldn’t get going. This is hard, he said aloud. He tried all day and the next and fell asleep, the blank paper on his bed. Two mornings later his mother woke him, his bed covered with presents instead of the blank paper. Merry Christmas, she announced. He’d dreamt the letter, but Christmas was real.