Space Address: 2B - Glitter

Word Count: 452

A/N: Just a little heads up, my Santa will be Pagan. No relation to St. Nicholas of Turkey except by name. Frankly, I don't think the real St. Nicholas would be fond of this glorification of him. He was a rich man who realized he could put his wealth to use by donating it to the poor. He never made or left toys or oranges. But that's an essay for another day. I just thought I'd let y'all know of my decision.

~o0o~

Though Harry worked very hard to be a good kid for Santa and Mrs. Claus, he found that trouble seemed to have a knack for finding him. He never got in any serious trouble and he was never yelled at which was a rather nice change. Just… Santa's Workshop was an incredibly easy place for trouble. The yetis were as responsible as the elves were mischievous.

"Morning, Phil," said Harry cheerfully.

Phil the Yeti grunted in greeting but didn't look up from his meticulous work on installing the hair for a doll, his tiny styling equipment all laid out in a neat row.

"Hi, Lars!"

The little elf waved before disappearing underneath a toy car, the only thing sticking out were his furry little feet.

"Hallo, Harry," said Jojo. "Looking for Santa?"

"Yes," said Harry. "Mama Claus says it's time for supper."

"Santa is this way!" said Bick, jumping up and down.

Harry followed Bick into the arts and crafts wing. Unfortunately, even with his new glasses, he didn't see the spill and he skidded right into table.

"Oh no!" the elves cried.

A bucket of glitter that was meant for ornaments dumped over onto Harry's head. The little boy sneezed and looked at his hands.

"Oh no," he whispered.

"What's going on over here?"

The elves stopped trying to dust Harry off and stepped away for Santa.

"I-I'm sorry," said Harry. "It was an accident."

Santa chuckled and ruffled Harry's hair. "Accidents happen, Harry. No use crying over spilled glitter."

"But I made a mess… I'm going to have to take a bath again…"

Santa hummed and nodded then got a grin on his face. He stood and dunked his head in another bucket. When he emerged, his cheeks, nose, and beard were coated with a layer of pink glitter. Harry stood still in shock before breaking out into a fit of laughter.

"There, no more tears," said Santa, picking Harry up easily which got gold glitter on his work clothes. "There are two things we can do when we have accidents, Harry. Laugh, or ask for help. Understand?"

"Yes, sir– I mean, Papa Claus, but… can't you use magic to get the glitter off?"

"I'm afraid I can't help you there, Harry," said Santa apologetically. "Did Tabitha already cover what magic doesn't work on?"

"Oh, right!" Harry scrunched his nose trying to remember. "Pet hair… sand… and glitter. They're too dense and small for magic to take effect on them."

"Very good!" Santa praised and Harry glowed.

Needless to say, Mrs. Claus scolded both of them for getting glitter everywhere, but was easily swayed into letting some gold get into her hair at her son's and husband's puppy dog eyes.