378. On Christmas Eve, a car drove a Christmas tree home. The driver, hand-picked by the big S.C. for his ability to deal with the treacherous conditions of this bright, white morning, hoped for a safe arrival. Sun stoked, his hand gripped the wheel, tension spiraling into his forearms. When they eventually pulled up outside the hospital, his crew, shaken by the journey but ever professional, roared into action. The dispatch polar bears tumbled into the ward and tried to look inconspicuous. The tree was up, decorated and surrounded with presents in record time. They were in and out with an efficiency surprising for those with claws and paws. A small girl is first awake. She looks at the calendar and realizes today is the day. Her shouts of excitement wake all and a rush to hand out the gifts ensues. The unwrapping and playing begins. The bears, peeking through the window, smile in the knowledge of a job well done. A child, meanwhile, had turned her tricycle upside down and was turning the pedal with her hand to make the front wheel spin.