On Christmas read aoulds Eve, the little tree in the corner was snoring.

Not really. Trees don't snore. But this one went *shhhhh-hhhh*.

Milo tiptoed over. "Are you awake?"

The star on top wiggled. "We're waiting," whispered the tree. "For the story."

Every ornament leaned in to listen. The little red truck went *vroom-vroom* very quietly. The snowflakes went *twinkle, twinkle*.

Milo sat cross-legged underneath and opened his book.

"Once there was a tiny reindeer who lost his jingle bell on Christmas Eve..."

As he read, the lights glowed a little brighter. The tinsel shivered.

"He looked in the snow. He looked in the sky. And then he heard it — *jingle!*"

Milo reached out and tapped the shiny bell on the lowest branch. *JINGLE!*

The whole tree giggled. The lights blinked. The branches went *rustle-rustle*.

Mom peeked in from the doorway. "I thought I heard a story in here."

"The tree told it," Milo said.

Mom smiled. "Trees LOVE a Christmas story."

So they sat together under the giggling, blinking, listening tree, and read one more — while outside the snow fell soft and silent, and inside everything felt warm and bright and exactly right.