For those of you who know me and my family, enjoy. For those of you that don't, I hope you enjoy it anyway. And Merry Christmas!

The Gift of the Moll-I

A Christmas Story.

Two hundred sixty-four dollars and eighty-seven cents. That was all. And one hundred thirty-eight dollars and sixty cents of it in the smallest pieces of money - pennies. Pennies saved one and two at a time by babysitting, by making clay-covered pens and selling them one or two at a time at craft fairs. Pennies earned by actually doing something her parents asked for a change. Three times Molly Mae Kiefer counted it. Two hundred sixty-four dollars and eighty-seven cents. That pretty much shot the whole day right there.  And the next day would be Christmas.

There was clearly nothing to do but sit down and cry. So Molly Mae Kiefer cried. Which led to the thought that life is made up of little cries and smiles, with more little cries than smiles – especially now that she had braces.

Molly finished her crying and dried her face. She stood by the window and looked out unhappily at a gray cat walking along a gray fence in a gray back yard, and wondered what the heck Benji was doing out loose. Tomorrow would be Christmas Day, and she had only two hundred sixty-four dollars and eighty-seven cents to buy her brother Andrew a gift. She had been saving every penny she could for months, with this result.

Andrew had expensive tastes, which made things difficult, seeing as his income was slightly south of zero. Expenses had been greater than she had expected. iTunes adds up. Many a happy couple of seconds she had spared from fighting with Andrew she spent planning to buy something nice for him. Something fine and expensive -- because he would flat-out have nothing to do with anything cheap.

There was a tall glass mirror between the windows of the room.  Suddenly Molly turned from the window and stood before the glass mirror and looked at herself. Her eyes were shining, but her face had lost its color within twenty seconds. Quickly she raised on her toes and on to pointe.

Now, Molly and Andrew Kiefer had two things which they valued. One was Andrew’s love of hunting. The other was Molly’s love of dancing.

She put on her Land’s End coat, her Land’s End scarf, her Land’s End mittens, her Land’s End boots, and her Land’s End hat over her Land’s End sweater, Land’s End shirt, Land’s End pants, and Land’s End socks. With a quick motion and brightness still in her eyes, she danced out the door and down the street.

She ran to the dance studio (her driving lessons still being a work in progress) and dashed in the door, out of breath.

"Will you buy my dance shoes?" asked Molly.

"Let us have a look," said Ms. Tori.

Out came the beautiful new pointe shoes.

"Twenty dollars," said Ms. Tori.

"Easy come, easy go," said Molly, who knew she hadn’t paid a cent for the shoes. Poor mother and father! “Give it to me quick.”

The next two hours went by as if they had wings. Molly flew to the sporting-goods store and found the perfect bow at last. It surely had been made for Andrew and no one else.  Fancy, yes, but also expensive. She gave the shopkeeper two hundred seventy-five dollars and hurried home.

"If Andy does not kill me before he looks at my feet, it will just be like any other day," she said to herself. “But what could I do--oh! what could I do with only two hundred sixty-four dollars and eighty-seven cents?"

Andrew was never late coming home from school.  Molly held the bow in her hand and sat near the door. Then she heard his step and she turned white for just a minute.

The door opened and Andrew stepped in. He looked thin and very serious. A fall spent running cross-country and a winter of hockey – not to mention a continual growth spurt – had him looking tall and thin.

Andrew stopped inside the door, as immovable as a dog smelling a bird. His eyes were fixed upon Molly. There was an expression in them that she could not read. Molly went to him.

"Dear Andrew," she cried, "do not look at me that way. I sold my pointe shoes because I could not have lived through Christmas without giving you a gift. Our mother and father will buy me another pair. I just had to do it. "

"You have sold your pointe shoes?" asked Andrew, slowly, as if he had not accepted the information even after his mind worked very hard. “Does that mean I don’t have to go to yours and Danny’s dance recital this year?”

"Do you not like me just as well without dance?" said Molly. "I am the same person without my pointe shoes, right?”

Andrew looked about the room as if he were looking for something.

"So where’s my arrows?" he asked.

"You need not look for them," said Molly. "You sold them to buy me more ballet lessons, just like in the story -- right?"

"Oh, heck, no," he said. "But I am really glad I get to skip that dumb recital. Now, did I leave the arrows in my bedroom, or are they downstairs?"

White fingers quickly tore at the tall lad. There was a scream; and then, alas! a change to tears and cries.

“You big dummy!” Molly cried – and look! Young Danny had taken a break from his singing and dancing to slip in a few licks of his own on his big brother. “It’s a dirty cheat! A big dirty cheat! You could have sold the arrows to buy me a leotard! Or those hockey medals you got for winning state – again! How many state-championship medals does a lummox like you need, anyway? That does it! I’m out of here!” And with that she stormed upstairs to do her homework – for Molly is nothing if not an excellent student.

Andrew fell on the couch and put his hands under the back of his head and smiled.

"Do you think we should tell her that mom and dad got her brand-new pointe shoes – and that fancy leotard she wanted – and another pair of Land’s End boots?" said he.

“And your bow – right?” Danny said.

“Maybe someday. But we’ll take this one back to the store and get her money.” He pulled an iPod Touch from his pocket and tossed his brother his Nintendo DS. “And now, why not play some games? iCarly is on in half an hour."

The magi were wise men--wonderfully wise men--who brought gifts to the Baby Jesus. They invented the art of giving Christmas gifts. And here I have told you the story of young people who most unwisely expected each other would give the greatest treasures of their house. But in a last word to the wise of these days, let it be said that the Kiefer children, all three, brighten our days with their laughter and love and warm hearts. They may not be the magi quite yet. Let us call them the Moll-I.