Santa was having a bad day. Maybe the worst day of his long life. It was a couple days before Christmas and he could not see how he was going to get all the gifts delivered.
The elves were trying to unionize and had a work slowdown going so they were way behind on making the toys. Some of his suppliers were having trouble shipping the raw materials he needed and this was exacerbating the problem. The reindeer were sick with head colds and Rudolf could not get his nose to shine at all so Santa was looking at the possibility of flying with no navigation. Mrs Clause kept nagging him because he had not finished the decorating.
Finally about 5 that evening Santa had had enough. He went into his living room and poured himself a large scotch and settled into his easy chair to relax with his pipe and glass. He had barely taken a sip when a little angel stuck her head through the doorway and cheerfully said "Santa, I have your Christmas tree here, where should I put it?"
And that boys and girls is why we always have an angel on top of our Christmas trees.
Thought for the day
It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, and comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who as the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat. [Theodore Roosevelt]