Author: Aaron Aaronsen

The Chocolate Nicholas

by Aaron Aaronsen

The chocolaterie was buzzing with activity as Monti J. Monti hurried downstairs, the smell of cocoa filling the air. It was St. Nicholas Day, one of the busiest days of the year for his family. His parents were hard at work crafting chocolate St. Nicholas figures, carefully pouring melted chocolate into molds and decorating them with intricate details.

Monti adjusted his red-and-white beanie and grinned. “Papa, can I help make a chocolate Nicholas this year? I’m ready!”

His dad, standing over a pot of melted chocolate, smiled. “Of course, Monti. But you have to remember, making chocolate takes patience. If you rush, it won’t turn out right.”

Monti nodded eagerly, bouncing on his toes. He had watched his parents do this a hundred times. How hard could it be?

Monti’s dad handed him a mold shaped like St. Nicholas and a ladle of warm, melted chocolate. “First, pour the chocolate slowly into the mold. Not too fast, or it will overflow. Then, we let it cool until it sets—don’t touch it until it’s ready.”

Monti scooped up some chocolate and poured it into the mold. But instead of taking his time, he tipped the ladle quickly, spilling some chocolate onto the counter. “Oops,” he muttered, but he kept going.

Once the mold was full, Monti stared at it impatiently. The chocolate was shiny and smelled delicious, and he couldn’t wait to see the final figure. He tapped his fingers on the counter and decided he had waited long enough. Carefully, he flipped the mold over to release the chocolate.

CRACK.

Monti’s face fell as the chocolate St. Nicholas broke in half. The details of the figure were smudged, and tiny pieces crumbled onto the counter.

His dad walked over and looked at the mess. “What happened, Monti?”

“I… I didn’t wait long enough,” Monti admitted, his cheeks turning red.

His dad nodded. “I know it’s hard, but chocolate needs time to cool and set. If you rush, it will crack, just like this. Do you want to try again?”

Monti hesitated, but then he nodded. “Yes. I’ll do it right this time.”

His dad handed him another mold and a fresh ladle of chocolate. “Okay. This time, remember—slow and steady. And no touching the mold until it’s completely ready.”

Monti poured the chocolate slowly, watching it flow smoothly into the mold. He wiped away the small drips on the edges and set the mold down carefully. Then came the hardest part—waiting.

As the minutes ticked by, Monti tried to distract himself by humming a tune and arranging candy canes on the counter. He glanced at the mold several times, tempted to check if the chocolate was ready, but he held back.

Finally, his dad came over and touched the mold lightly. “Now it’s ready. You can remove it.”

Monti took a deep breath and gently flipped the mold over. This time, the chocolate St. Nicholas slid out perfectly. The figure stood tall, with a detailed robe, a kind face, and a tiny staff in hand.

Monti’s eyes lit up. “It worked! It’s perfect!”

His dad patted him on the back. “See what happens when you’re patient? It makes all the difference.”

Later that afternoon, Monti carefully wrapped the chocolate St. Nicholas in shiny gold foil and tied it with a red ribbon. He had decided to give it to Leo, who had been feeling left out after missing the St. Nicholas festivities at school.

When Monti knocked on Leo’s door and handed him the chocolate, Leo’s face lit up. “Wow, Monti! Did you make this?”

Monti nodded proudly. “I did. It took a while, but it was worth it.”

As Monti walked home through the snowy streets, he thought about the lesson he had learned. Patience wasn’t just about waiting—it was about giving things the time they needed to be their best. And sometimes, the reward wasn’t just in what you made but in the joy of sharing it with someone else.

With a smile on his face, Monti headed back to the chocolaterie, ready to help his parents finish the rest of the St. Nicholas orders, one careful step at a time.

The Snowman Surprise

by Aaron Aaronsen

It was a perfect winter morning in Monti J. Monti’s town. The ground was covered with thick, fluffy snow, and Monti could hear the excited chatter of kids as he walked to the town square. Today was the big day, the annual snowman-building contest.

Monti’s boots crunched in the snow as he adjusted his red-and-white beanie and thought about his plan. He wanted to build the biggest and best snowman the town had ever seen.

When he arrived at the square, the mayor was already announcing the rules. “Work alone or in teams,” she said. “But remember, the most creative snowman wins the prize!”

Monti looked around. Leo was teaming up with a group of kids, laughing and planning. But Monti shook his head. I can do this on my own. If I build the biggest snowman by myself, everyone will be even more impressed, he thought.

Monti got to work right away. He started rolling a snowball for the base, pushing it across the snowy ground. At first, it was fun watching the ball grow bigger and bigger. But soon it became heavy. The snow stuck unevenly, and Monti struggled to move it any further.

“Come on,” he muttered, straining against the weight.

After what felt like forever, he finally had a large base. But as he tried to lift another snowball to stack on top, it slipped and crumbled. Monti groaned, his arms aching. He looked around and saw the other teams making progress.

Leo’s team was rolling snowballs together, laughing as they worked. Another group of kids was decorating their snowman with scarves and twigs. Everyone seemed to be having fun, except Monti.

“Need a hand?”

Monti turned to see Leo standing there, grinning. Behind him, the rest of his team waved.

Monti hesitated. He was embarrassed about his messy snowman, and part of him still wanted to do it alone. But the snowball he’d been trying to lift had already fallen apart again, and his arms were too tired to try anymore.

Finally, he sighed. “Okay, I guess I could use some help.”

Leo’s face lit up. “Awesome! Come join us!”

Working as a team felt strange at first, but Monti quickly realized how much easier it was. Leo and another boy rolled the base snowball together while two others packed the snow to make it smooth. Monti worked on the middle section, and with everyone’s help, they stacked it easily onto the base.

As they built, they shared ideas. One girl suggested making the snowman’s arms out of pine branches, and Monti came up with the idea of using shiny foil from candy wrappers to make buttons. Someone else shaped a tiny snow goat to sit on the snowman’s shoulder, a nod to Monti’s favorite animal.

By the time they finished, their snowman was enormous and full of unique details. It wore a red scarf, had pinecone eyes, and even a big, goofy smile made of licorice sticks.

When the mayor came around to judge the snowmen, she stopped in front of Monti’s team’s creation and gasped. “What a masterpiece! This snowman has so much character. It’s clear you all worked hard together.”

Monti felt a swell of pride. He realized that their snowman wouldn’t have been half as good if he’d worked alone.

When the winners were announced, Monti’s team took first place. The prize was a basket of chocolates, which they all shared, laughing and joking as they ate.

That evening, as Monti walked home with Leo, he felt lighter than the snowflakes drifting in the air. “You know,” he said, “I thought doing it alone would be better. But working together was way more fun—and we made something amazing.”

Leo grinned. “See? Teamwork makes everything better. Plus, now you know how to build the biggest snowman next year!”

Monti laughed, his breath puffing in the cold air. “Next year, I’m definitely starting with a team.”

As he climbed into bed that night, Monti thought about the day. He’d learned that asking for help wasn’t a weakness, it made big things possible. With a smile, he drifted off to sleep, dreaming of snowflakes, laughter, and a snowman standing tall in the town square.

The Mystery Package

by Aaron Aaronsen

Monti J. Monti’s boots crunched against the snowy path as he walked home from school. His red-and-white striped beanie was pulled low over his ears, and his backpack felt heavy with books and the day’s adventures. As he turned the corner toward his parents’ chocolaterie, he spotted something unusual on the doorstep.

A package.

Monti’s heart skipped a beat. The box was wrapped in brown paper with a festive red ribbon tied around it. He hurried up the steps, his curiosity piqued. Leaning in, he read the label:

To: Herr Müller

From: Weihnachtswunderland

Herr Müller was their neighbor, an older man with a kind smile.

Monti frowned, staring at the package. It wasn’t for him, but he couldn’t help wondering what was inside. It could be chocolates, maybe toys—or something even more exciting. His fingers itched to open it.

He hesitated, remembering what his parents always said about respecting others’ things. But his curiosity was too strong. After glancing around to make sure no one was watching, Monti grabbed the package, slipped inside the house, and dashed up to his room.

In the safety of his attic bedroom, Monti placed the package on his bed. His heart raced as he carefully untied the ribbon and peeled back the paper. Inside, he found a collection of small Christmas-themed toys: tiny reindeer figurines, golden bells, candy canes, and little felt stockings.

For a moment, Monti’s eyes lit up. But then a heavy feeling settled in his chest.

“This must be for the children,” he whispered to himself, thinking about how Herr Müller always dressed as St. Nicholas on December 6th and handed out little gifts to the children in the neighborhood.

By opening the package, Monti had not only ruined the surprise but also invaded someone else’s privacy.

Guilt swept over him like a cold wind. Monti shoved the toys back into the box, but no matter how carefully he tried, the package didn’t look the same. The knot in his stomach grew tighter.

Monti spent the rest of the afternoon hiding in his room, staring at the box. When his mother called him for dinner, he mumbled something about not being hungry. He felt ashamed and didn’t want to face anyone.

After a while, there was a soft knock at his door. His mom stepped in, her warm eyes scanning the room until they landed on the opened package.

“Monti,” she said gently, sitting on the edge of his bed. “What happened?”

Monti’s eyes filled with tears. “I found the package on the doorstep. It wasn’t for me, but I wanted to see what was inside. So… I opened it.”

His mother’s face grew serious. “Monti, opening someone else’s package is a big mistake. It’s not respectful, and it breaks their trust. How would you feel if someone did that to you?”

Monti lowered his head. “I’d feel terrible.”

She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “We all make mistakes, Monti. But what’s important is that we take responsibility and try to make it right. Do you know how you can fix this?”

Monti sniffled. “I could… give it back? And say I’m sorry?”

His mother smiled softly. “Exactly. It might feel hard, but being honest and apologizing is the right thing to do.”

Monti spent the next hour carefully repacking the box. He smoothed out the crumpled paper and retied the ribbon as best as he could. When he was finished, he took a deep breath, held the package tightly, and walked next door to Herr Müller’s house.

He knocked nervously, his hands trembling. The door creaked open, and Herr Müller appeared, his cheerful face lighting up. “Monti! What brings you here?”

Monti’s cheeks turned red. “I found this package for you, Herr Müller. I… I opened it by mistake because I was curious. I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have done it.”

Herr Müller’s eyebrows rose, but then he chuckled kindly. “Well, Monti, I appreciate your honesty. It’s not easy to admit when you’ve done something wrong. Thank you for bringing it back.”

Monti shuffled his feet. “I hope it’s okay… I tried to fix it.”

Herr Müller patted him on the shoulder. “It’s more than okay. You’ve learned something important, haven’t you?”

Monti nodded. “Yes. I’ll never open something that isn’t mine again.”

Herr Müller smiled. “That’s a good lesson to carry with you. And don’t worry—St. Nicholas will still make his rounds on the 6th.”

Monti felt a wave of relief as he walked home. The knot in his stomach was gone, replaced by a warm feeling of having done the right thing.

That evening, as he sat at the dinner table, Monti shared the story with his parents. They listened and nodded, proud of how he’d taken responsibility.

Monti smiled to himself, knowing that even though he’d made a mistake, he’d learned something valuable: doing the right thing might be hard, but it always makes your heart feel lighter.

The Wooden Puzzle

by Aaron Aaronsen

The Saturday morning sun shone through Monti J. Monti’s window, casting golden light on the floor. Monti was sitting cross-legged on his bed, carefully assembling a new wooden puzzle he’d received as an early holiday gift from his grandparents. The pieces fit together to form a small mountain scene, complete with tiny painted goats and trees. It was Monti’s new favorite thing.

Just as he was finishing the edges, there was a knock at the door.

“Hey, Monti!” Leo called from the hallway. “Want to play outside?”

Monti hesitated. He knew Leo would want to see the puzzle, and maybe even ask to play with it. But Monti didn’t feel like sharing—not yet. It was brand new, and he wanted to enjoy it all by himself for a little while longer.

He quickly slid the puzzle under his bed. “Uh, I can’t right now, Leo!” Monti called back. “I’m, um, not feeling well.”

There was a pause. “Oh,” Leo said, sounding disappointed. “Okay. I hope you feel better soon.”

Monti felt a little guilty as he heard Leo’s footsteps fading down the stairs, but he shook it off and returned to his puzzle.

The rest of the morning didn’t go as Monti had hoped. He couldn’t concentrate on the puzzle. Every time he looked at the tiny goats, he remembered Leo’s voice, and a small, uncomfortable knot tightened in his chest. By lunchtime, the knot had grown so big that Monti could barely enjoy the warm tomato soup his mom had made.

“What’s wrong, Monti?” his mom asked, noticing his furrowed brow.

Monti pushed his spoon around the bowl. “It’s nothing,” he mumbled.

His mom didn’t press him, but she gave him a knowing look. “Sometimes, when we do something we know isn’t right, it can feel like a heavy backpack we’re carrying around. It helps to set it down by telling the truth.”

Monti thought about that as he finished his soup. He didn’t want to carry the heavy backpack anymore.

That afternoon, Monti found Leo in the park, sitting on a bench and flipping through a small notebook he always carried.

“Hey, Leo,” Monti said, shuffling his boots in the snow.

Leo looked up, his face lighting up. “Oh, hey, Monti! Are you feeling better?”

Monti bit his lip, then took a deep breath. “Actually, I wasn’t really sick this morning. I lied because… well, I didn’t want to share my new puzzle with you. I’m sorry, Leo. That wasn’t fair.”

Leo blinked in surprise, then looked down at his notebook. “Wow. Thanks for telling me,” he said quietly. “I have to tell you something too.”

Monti frowned, tilting his head. “What is it?”

Leo hesitated, then held up the notebook. “Remember when I said this was my ‘adventure journal’ where I write about all the cool things I’ve done? Well, that wasn’t true. I’ve never really written about any adventures. I just doodle in here because I don’t know what to write.”

Monti stared at the notebook, then burst into laughter—not to make fun of Leo, but because he suddenly felt so much lighter. “Leo, that’s okay! Your doodles are awesome. I’ve seen them! And anyway, who needs an adventure journal when we have real adventures all the time?”

Leo grinned, relief spreading across his face. “You’re right. And thanks for not being mad about it.”

Monti smiled. “I’m not mad. It feels so much better to just be honest, doesn’t it?”

Leo nodded. “Yeah. It’s like taking off a heavy coat when you come inside from the snow.”

Monti thought about his mom’s advice and realized how true it was. The heavy backpack he’d been carrying all morning was gone. “Hey, do you want to come over and see the puzzle? We can put it together together.”

Leo’s face lit up. “Really? That sounds great!”

Back at Monti’s house, the two boys worked on the puzzle, laughing as they tried to figure out where the tiny pieces fit. When they finished, they admired the little mountain scene they’d created.

“This is amazing,” Leo said. “Thanks for sharing it with me, Monti.”

Monti nodded, feeling happier than he had all day. “Thanks for understanding. I guess we both learned something about being honest today.”

Leo smiled. “Yeah. And it turns out, the truth really does feel better.”

As they cleaned up, Monti looked out the window at the setting sun. The snowy mountains in the distance seemed to glow in the golden light, and he felt a warmth inside that had nothing to do with the fire crackling in the fireplace. Telling the truth wasn’t always easy, but it made everything – friendships, puzzles, and even snowy Saturdays – so much better.

The Flashlight Adventure

by Aaron Aaronsen

The cold December night was quiet, and the stars twinkled like tiny diamonds in the sky. Monti J. Monti pulled his beanie down snugly over his ears and tightened the laces on his well-worn hiking boots. In his hand, he held a flashlight he’d borrowed from his dad. It was Friday night, and Monti and Leo had planned to play outside in the park.

Leo was already waiting by the big old oak tree. He had a flashlight in one hand and his red jacket zipped up tight. “Ready for an adventure, Monti?” he called, his breath puffing into little clouds in the frosty air.

Monti grinned and raised his flashlight. “Of course! But let’s keep quiet—we don’t want to wake up the forest animals.”

The two boys set off, shining their flashlights on the snowy ground and searching for tracks. “Look here! These could be deer tracks!” Leo said excitedly. Monti nodded, aiming his beam to get a better look.

Suddenly, a bright light flashed directly into Monti’s face. He stopped in his tracks, blinking as his eyes stung. “Ouch, Leo! Stop shining the flashlight in my face!”

Leo quickly lowered the flashlight, looking surprised. “Oh, sorry, Monti. I just wanted to make sure you were still there.”

Monti rubbed his eyes, which were still hurting from the glare. “You should never shine a flashlight in someone’s face, Leo. It really hurts—and it can even damage your eyes.”

Leo looked guilty. “Really? I didn’t know that.”

Monti nodded seriously. “Yeah, my dad says eyes are very sensitive. In the summer, I always wear sunglasses because the sun is so bright it can hurt your eyes. Flashlight beams aren’t as strong as sunlight, but in the dark, they’re still way too bright.”

Leo hung his head. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Monti patted him on the shoulder and smiled. “It’s okay. Now you know. Let’s keep looking for tracks, but let’s point our flashlights at the ground, not at faces.”

The boys continued their adventure, this time being more careful with their flashlights. They found what they thought might be a fox den and watched their breath swirl like mist in the beams of light.

“Hey, Monti,” Leo said suddenly. “Why is your flashlight so cool? It’s way brighter than mine.”

Monti laughed. “It’s my dad’s. He uses it when he checks on the cows at my grandma’s old farm at night. It’s super handy, but he also taught me how to use it properly.”

Leo shone his flashlight up into the trees. “I think I’m going to take better care of mine. Maybe I can figure out more ways to use it.”

Monti nodded. “Flashlights are really useful if you use them the right way. But they can also be dangerous if you’re not careful.”

As the night grew late and the stars sparkled even brighter, the boys decided it was time to head home. Before they parted ways, Leo put a hand on Monti’s arm. “Thanks for explaining the flashlight thing to me. I’ll never shine one in someone’s face again.”

Monti grinned. “No problem. That’s what friends are for.”

On the walk home, Monti thought about how important it is to be careful with things that are helpful but can also be harmful. When he got home, he placed the flashlight back on his dad’s workbench and said quietly to himself, “With love, mindfulness, and imagination—even with flashlights.”

With a satisfied smile, Monti climbed the stairs to his room, ready for another day filled with new adventures.

The Secret of Giving

by Aaron Aaronsen

Monti J. Monti sat cross-legged on the floor of his cozy attic bedroom, his round, freckled face lit with excitement. The room smelled faintly of pine from the garland on his windowsill, and the red and white striped beanie on his head bobbed as he reached for the advent calendar on his desk.

It was December 1st—the first day of advent—and Monti had been waiting weeks to begin opening the little cardboard doors. But as he stared at the shiny green and gold calendar, an idea popped into his head.

“What if,” he thought, his brown eyes glinting mischievously, “I opened all the doors today? Then I could taste all the chocolates at once!”

His fingers hovered over the first door, but before he could pry it open, a familiar voice called up the stairs.

“Monti! Breakfast is ready!”

Downstairs in the chocolaterie’s kitchen, his parents were bustling about. His father was stirring a pot of molten chocolate, while his mother was wrapping up little boxes of truffles. The warmth of the shop below filled the air with a comforting hum.

Monti slid into his chair, still clutching the advent calendar. “Mama, Papa,” he began, “what if I just opened all the doors today? Wouldn’t it be amazing to have all the chocolates now?”

His mother, her hands dusted with cocoa powder, smiled. “Ah, Monti. But then what would you look forward to tomorrow? Or the next day?”

His father nodded. “Do you remember what Oma always says about making chocolate?”

“With love, mindfulness, and imagination,” Monti recited.

His mother leaned over and tapped the little calendar. “It’s not just about the chocolate, Monti. It’s about the magic of waiting and discovering something new each day. Patience makes it sweeter.”

Monti sighed but nodded. He peeled open the first door, revealing a tiny chocolate goat inside. He popped it into his mouth and smiled as the creamy sweetness melted on his tongue. Maybe they were right.

At school that afternoon, Monti noticed his classmate Leo sitting quietly at the back of the classroom. Leo was new to the town, and Monti had overheard some of the other kids whispering that his family didn’t have much money.

When their teacher handed out worksheets, Monti saw something that made his chest tighten. Leo’s desk was empty—no advent calendar, no festive treats.

Monti thought about his own calendar, sitting on his desk at home, bursting with chocolates for every day until Christmas. A small pang of guilt crept into his heart. He had so much, and here was Leo, without even one piece of advent chocolate.

An idea sparked. At recess, Monti dashed to his backpack, rummaging for the tiny chocolate tin his grandmother always packed for emergencies. Inside was a single square of milk chocolate.

When no one was looking, Monti tiptoed over to Leo’s desk and slipped the chocolate inside. The bell rang, and the students returned. Monti watched nervously as Leo opened his desk.

The moment Leo saw the chocolate, his face lit up like the Christmas lights in the town square. “Wow,” Leo whispered, carefully unwrapping it. “This is the best chocolate I’ve ever tasted!”

Monti felt a warm glow spread through him. It wasn’t the same as eating chocolate himself—it was something better.

That evening, back at home, Monti’s parents asked about his day as they stirred another batch of chocolate together. Monti hesitated, then told them about Leo and the chocolate he had shared.

His father stopped stirring and placed a hand on Monti’s shoulder. “Do you know what makes chocolate truly special?”

Monti shook his head.

“It’s not just the ingredients,” his father said. “It’s the love you put into it and the joy of sharing it. That’s what makes it taste sweeter.”

His mother smiled and handed him a glass of milk. “Sometimes, Monti, the sweetest things aren’t the ones you eat—they’re the ones you give.”

Monti sipped the milk and felt the warmth spread through him again. He thought about Leo’s smile and decided that tomorrow, he would bring another piece of chocolate to school.

This time, though, he wouldn’t just leave it in Leo’s desk. He would sit with him and share it, because maybe—just maybe—joy was sweeter when shared together.

As Monti climbed into bed that night, the little advent calendar sat on his desk, unopened doors waiting patiently. Monti smiled to himself, knowing that each small chocolate would now remind him of something bigger: how little acts of kindness can brighten someone else’s advent, one day at a time.