Sam’s Christmas Fleet

“I know exactly what I want,” Sam says, holding up a picture of a toy boat.

Riley leans close. “That boat has a blue sail!”

“And a tiny red flag,” Sam says. “I want to sail it with you.”

The two friends are in Sam’s living room, where Christmas cards stand along the mantel like a row of cheerful little houses. A low table sits beside a play tub as big around as a washbasin. The tub is filled with water, and its smooth surface reflects the twinkle of the tree lights. Sam’s mom sits right beside the tub, keeping a close eye on the friends as they play.

Sam’s wish list is on the table. At the top, in careful letters, it says: A toy boat.

“I’m writing to Santa tonight,” Sam says. “Then, when my boat comes, we can have a race.”

“What can we do while we wait?” asks Riley.

Sam looks at the tub. “We could make paper boats!”

They fold sheets from an old drawing pad. Sam presses each crease with a thumb. Riley makes a pointy bow and gives the boat a name: The Quick Duck.

“Ready?” Sam asks.

They set their boats on the water. Both float! The Quick Duck wobbles gently past Sam’s boat.

“Mine is winning,” Riley whispers.

“It’s not a race yet,” Sam says. “We need cargo.”

They fetch two little wooden blocks and place one in each boat. Sam’s boat leans to one side. Riley’s dips at the front.

“Uh-oh,” says Riley.

Sam adds a second block to help balance the first. The paper edge sinks. A tiny splash slips over the side, and Sam’s boat tips into the water. Riley’s boat follows with a soft plop.

They fish both boats out. The paper has gone limp and soggy.

Sam’s smile fades. “The real toy boat will work. It has to. Maybe paper boats just can’t carry things.”

Riley looks at the tub, then at the soggy boats. “Maybe these folds didn’t work.”

Sam glances at the picture on the wish list. The boat looks perfect, with its wide hull and bright sail.

“I asked Santa for the exact right boat,” Sam says. “That’s what will make our game work.”

Riley pats the dry part of the table. “Want to try one more fold before you write your letter?”

Sam looks at Riley’s hopeful face, then at the empty sheets. “One more,” Sam says.

Riley takes a fresh sheet and folds it slowly. “What if the bottom is wider?”

Sam watches Riley open the folded paper and push the sides apart. The boat becomes broad and flat underneath, with little walls along the edges.

“That looks like a tiny bathtub,” Sam says.

“A boat-bathtub!” Riley giggles.

Sam makes another, copying Riley’s folds. They press the bottoms flat with their fingertips. Then they set both boats gently on the water, while Sam’s mom stays close and watches.

The boats float. They rock a little, but they don’t tip.

Sam’s eyes grow wide. “The wide bottom is steadier!”

“Let’s test it with cargo,” says Riley.

They choose two corks. Riley places one in the middle of each boat. Sam’s boat dips just a bit, then settles. The broad bottom spreads the weight, and the boat stays upright.

“Cargo crossing!” Sam announces. “The cork is a present going to the other side of the tub.”

They use two craft sticks to guide the boats, giving them little nudges instead of big pushes. Sam’s boat glides past a floating paper star. Riley’s boat turns in a slow circle.

“It’s looking for the North Pole,” Riley says.

“It can find the cocoa dock instead,” Sam replies, steering it toward the tub’s far edge.

One boat carries a cork. Another carries a folded paper heart. They make a few more sturdy boats, changing the folds until each bottom is wide and flat. Their small fleet sails back and forth. The paper gets damp at the edges, so they lift the boats out and let them rest on a towel before they become too soggy.

Sam studies the picture of the toy boat on the wish list. Then Sam picks up a pencil.

“I still wish for a toy boat,” Sam says. “But I don’t need to wait for one to have our game.”

Sam adds: Craft paper, and another boat-making afternoon with Riley.

Riley smiles. “That’s a wish I can help with.”

Sam folds the letter and places it beside the Christmas cards, ready for Santa. “And if the toy boat comes, it can join the fleet.”

“Captain of the cocoa dock!” Riley declares.

Sam laughs. “That’s a very important job.”

The game slows as the room grows quieter. The boats rest on the towel beside the tub, their little paper sides drying in the warm room. Sam and Riley sit on the rug and watch the tree lights blink in the water.

“Which boat was the bravest?” Riley asks softly.

“The one that carried the paper heart,” Sam says. “It went all the way across.”

“And the one that went in circles?”

“That was the North Pole explorer.”

Riley gives the damp little boat a gentle pat. “It did a good job.”

Sam gathers the wooden blocks and craft sticks and sets them neatly on the low table. Riley stacks the extra paper beside them. Sam’s mom empties the tub and puts it away. The water is still now, with a tiny ripple near the edge where one boat had sailed.

Sam looks at the wish list. “I thought the wish had to come true exactly the way I pictured it.”

Riley points to the boats. “This came true a different way.”

Sam nods. “I wished for a boat so we could play together. We made boats, and we played together.”

The Christmas cards on the mantel seem to smile in the soft light. Sam wonders what Santa will think when he reads the letter. Maybe he will notice the new words at the bottom. Maybe he will smile at the paper fleet.

“Will the boats be ready tomorrow?” Riley asks.

“They’ll be dry,” Sam says. “And we can make more if we want.”

Riley gives Sam a sleepy hug, then says good night. Sam places the wish list on the table beside the boats, where it can wait until morning. The toy boat picture is still at the top, and underneath it are two new wishes: craft paper and another afternoon with Riley.

Sam turns off the living-room lamp. The Christmas lights glow gently over the empty tub and the little fleet resting beside the revised wish list, ready for another calm voyage tomorrow.