Christmas

It was more than a snowy bright morning; to Timmy it was a magical day. With his new Red Robin Deluxe Woodland tricycle he roamed the streets and sidewalks in the roundabout neighborhood he lived in. Crushing snow and running on the moist leaves that lie cuddled beneath the snow, he was the King. Clamped on his rear tire there was a clothespin where deep within its grips was his Mickey Rogers baseball card, he now rode a motorcycle. His very own motorcycle.
The wheels rolled and his horn honked, he swung tight corners and drove through ramps, nothing could stop him now- His mother called out standing by the door that led to the front yard,
“Timmy supper-time!”.
His reign of glory had ended for today, but happily went home, for that he knew that once the night had passed and he had breakfast he would ride again and ride with joy, but tonight was a good night, he would brush it’s rims and polish it’s shine, he would clean each gap and dry the melting snow, his bike would sparkle like new again and smile it’s glorious red glow on him.
He eagerly went home to eat and fell sound asleep, a smile from ear to ear and his hands ready for the ride.
He woke up suddenly and saw it was crack of dawn, ran downstairs and realized it was Christmas morning, Could it be again? he thought to himself as he ran to the tree where he found his parents where they sat with a grin on their faces, they had a puppy with a bright red bow. He paused and thought of his bike, Was it a dream?. He ran to the garage and found to his dismay his parents old Volkswagen and a toolset by the door.