Canutito tended to be un poco ‘puchilame’
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El tiempo de Christmas was in the air y habían decoraciones de todas clases in the streets y también en las tiendas. Los snowmen in the streets looked bien festivos y cada casa tenía a Rudolfo el Venadito complete with his red nose. Everywhere se oía música navideña como Jingle Bells; Cascabeles y Chestnuts roasting en una lumbre. Everyone was happy, ganándose “Mis Crismes” unos a los otros as they did their shopping. Grampo y grama had promised to take Canutito to see the lighting del pino de Christmas en la plaza.
They could hardly wait to see los ojitos de Canutito ver a las lucecitas de todos colores glistening en todos los branches. They wanted to surprise him, de manera que no le dijeron that Santa Claus was going to arrive subido en un fire engine. At first, Canutito was happy bebiendo chocolate caliente and waiting for the breaking de la piñata.
When grampo y grama heard el sonido del fire engine llegando a la plaza, they winked and smiled uno con el otro. Pero, suddenly Canutito, who had been so happy hasta ahora, ran up and hugged grampo’s leg and hid his face con sus manos. When he heard Santa decir: “Ho, ho, ho!” he snuggled tightly
against la pierna de su grampo and he shivered con mucho miedo. He was trying de no llorar. “¿Qué te pasa, m’hijo?” grampo
asked him, hugging him cuando lo vio todo scared.
“¡Yo no quiero ver al Santo Clós,
grampo!” Canutito exclaimed. “I’m
afraid de su barba blanca y su nariz colorada. No me gusta ver su pipa grande nor his glasses.” “He es just un duende grande y panzón, m’hijo,” Grama Cuca said,
smiling.
“I’m afraid de los big, fat elves, grama,” Canutito answered. “It is bad enough cuando los duendes are little como los ratones pero when they’re big como el Santo Clós, parece que they are going to
eat me.” “Santa Claus no te va a comer, m’hijo,” grampo said. “Los duendes are nice people! And, he brings you muchos regalos. ¿Por qué no vas and sit on his knee, m’hijo?”
“I don’t need any gifts,” Canutito blurted out, “y no quiero sentarme en su rodilla.”
“He is a really nice guy, m’hijo,” Grama Cuca said, holding on to his shoulders. “In fact, si le ponías un red suit y una stocking cap a tu grampo, he would look just like el Santo Clós and he already has his own panzota de manera que he wouldn’t have to stuff su sute con almohadas. You’re not afraid de tu grampo, are you, m’hijo?”
“I guess not,” dijo Canutito, abrazando al grampo. “Pero I still don’t want to see Santa.” Esa noche después que el niño
had fallen asleep, grama said to grampo, “I think que el niño is rather puchilame. It should really be pronounced: ‘pusilánime’ and it refers to una persona who is afraid.
En latín se dice ‘pusillanimous’ or ‘weak-sprited’.”
“I just can’t understand por qué el Canutito salió bien puchilame,” grampo said. “Yo he sido bien tofote toda mi vida. He must
have learned cómo ser puchilame from your side de la familia.” As he was talking, una araña fell off del Christmas tree and landed right on top of him. Grampo let out un
gritote, gimiendo: “Spider! Spider! ¡Quítame esa araña, pronto, antes que it bites me!”
Grama Cuca just brushed off
la araña con un Kleenex. She
smiled: “Ahora sé de donde salió el niño tan puchilame. As we say en español, ‘de tal palo, tal estilla’; the apple doesn’t fall far del árbol. Si Canutito es puchilame, es porque su grampo es puchilame ....