How Santa Made the First Toy

Happy Holidays! We read from L. Frank Baum’s The Life and Adventures of Santa Claus and follow a young Claus as he crosses a valley, meets neglected children, and learns how simple acts can bend a hard world toward joy. So snuggle up in your blankets and have sweet dreams. 

The music in this episode is December Nights by Martin Landh. 

Chapters

• 0:00 Holiday Welcome And Dedications
• 0:51 Introducing Baum And Santa’s Origins
• 1:57 Klaus Discovers Children And Joy
• 3:49 Doors Closed By Power And Pride
• 4:24 Winter Descends On The Valley
• 5:05 Parley With Jack Frost
• 6:38 Firelight, Blinky, And Quiet Days
• 7:59 Whittling The First Toy

Transcript

Jordan : 0:20

Welcome to Dreamful Podcast. Bedtime Stories or Slumber. I always look forward to our holiday episodes. And there are three people in particular I want to thank for making this episode possible. Shyanne Eagle, Rebecca Kozak, and Becca. Thank you all so much. And I hope you have the sweetest of dreams and the happiest of holidays. I have a special story for you today. I will be reading from the life and adventures of Santa Claus by L. Frank Baum. Yes, the same one who wrote The Wizard of Oz. The chapter I will be reading is how Claus made the first toy. So, snuggle up your blankets and how sweet dreams. So at once he began to make acquaintance with mankind. He walked through the valley to the plain beyond and crossed the plain in many directions to reach the abodes of men. These stood singly were in groups of dwellings called villages. And in nearly all the houses, whether big or little, Claus found children. The youngsters soon came to know his merry, laughing face and the kind glance of his bright eyes. And the parents were content that the girls and boys had found a playfellow who seemed so willing to amuse them. So the children romped and played games across, and the boys rode upon his shoulders, and the girls nestled in his strong arms, and the babies clung fondly to his knees. Wherever the young man chanced to be, the sound of childish laughter followed him. And to understand this better, you must know that children were much neglected in those days and received little attention from their parents, so that it became to them a marvel that so goodly a man as Claus devoted his time to making them happy. And those who knew him were, you may be sure, very happy indeed. The sad faces of the poor and abused grew bright for once. The ailing ones hushed their moans, and the grieved ones their cries. When their merry friend came nigh to comfort them. Only at the beautiful palace to the Lord of Laird, and at the frowning castle, the Baron Braun, was Claus refused admittance. There were children at both places, but the servants of the palace shut the door in the young stranger's face, and the fierce baron threatened to hang him from an iron hook on the castle walls, whereupon Claus died and went back to the poor dwellings where he was welcome. After time, the winter drew near. The flowers lived out their lives and faded and disappeared. The beetles burrowed far into the warm earth. The butterflies deserted the meadows, and the voice of the brook grew hoarse, as if it had taken cold. One day, snowflakes filled all the air in the laughing valley, dancing boisterously toward the earth, and clothing in pure white raiment, the roof of Claus's dwelling. At night, Jack Frost rapped at the door. Come in, cried Claus. Come out, answered Jack, for you have a fire inside. So Claus came out. He had known Jack Frost in the forest, and like the Jolly Roger, even while he mistrusted him. There will be a rare sport for me tonight, Claus, shouted the sprite. Isn't this glorious weather? I shall nip scores of noses and ears and toes before daybreak. If you love me, Jack, spare the children, said Claus. And why? asked the other in surprise. They are tender and helpless, answered Claus. But I love to nip the tender ones, declared Jack. The older ones are tough and tire my fingers. The young ones are weak and cannot fight you, said Claus. True, agreed Jack thoughtfully. Well, I will not pinch a child this night if I can resist the temptation, he promised. Good night, Claus. Good night. The young man went in and closed the door, and Jack Frost ran on to the nearest village. Claus threw a log on the fire, which burned up brightly. Beside the hearth, sat blinky, a cat given him by Peter the Nook. Her fur was soft and glossy, and she purred never-ending songs of contentment. I shall not see the children again soon, said Claus to the cat, who kindly paused in her song to listen. The winter's upon us. The snow will be deep for many days, and I shall be unable to play with my little friends. The cat raised a paw and stroked her nose thoughtfully, but made no reply. So long as the fire burned, and Claus sat in his easy chair by the hearth, she did not mind the weather. So passed many days and many long evenings. The cupboard was always full, but Claus became weary with having nothing to do more than to feed the fire from the big wood pile the nooks had brought him. One evening, he picked up a stick of wood and began to cut it with a sharp knife. He had no thought at first, except to occupy his time, and he whistled and sang to the cat as he carved away portions of the stick. Claus glanced at the cat and then at the stick while he was whittling, until presently the wood began to have a shape, and the shape was like the head of a cat, with two ears sticking upward. Claus stopped whistling to laugh. And then both he and the cat looked at the wooden image in some surprise. Then he carved out the eyes and the nose and rounded the lower part of the head so that it rested upon a neck. Claus hardly knew what to make of it now, and sat up stiffly, as if watching with some suspicion, what would come next. Claus knew. The head gave him an idea. He plied his knife carefully and with skill, forming slowly the body of the cat, which he made to sit upon its haunches as the real cat did, with her tail wound around her two front legs. The work cost him much time, but the evening was long, and he had nothing better to do. Finally, he gave a loud and delighted laugh at the result of his labors and placed the wooden cat, now completed, upon the hearth opposite the real one. The cat thereupon glared at her image, raised her hair in anger, and uttered a defiant mew. The wooden cat paid no attention, and Claus, much amused, laughed again. Then Blinky advanced toward the wooden image to eye it closely and smell of it intelligently. Eyes and nose told her the creature was wood in spite of its natural appearance. So Post resumed her seat and her purring. But as she neatly washed her face with her padded paw, she cast more than one admiring glance at her clever master. Perhaps she felt the same satisfaction we feel when we look upon good photographs of ourselves. The castmaster was himself pleased with his handiwork, without knowing exactly why. Indeed, he had great cause to congratulate himself that night. And all the children throughout the world should have joined him rejoicing.