A precious Christmas gift

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Alfred had long dreamed of receiving a mountain bike as a Christmas gift. Each day on the way home from school he stopped by the window of a bike shop on the corner, longing to see the object of his mania -- an Italian-built Columbus-tubed fixed gear bike. It was hung from a pair of hooks above the window, gleaming with elegance. It was Alfred's dream bike. Every day Alfred would hold his breath as he'd round the corner by the bike shop and each day he'd see the bike and let his breath out slowly, fearing that someday it would be gone, sold to someone less than worthy to appreciate it for what it was -- the perfect bicycle. Unfortunately Alfred's family couldn't afford it, so that's why Alfred still only had the chance to look rather than to ride on it. The days had grown short; snow had begun to fall -- Christmas was coming! "I've been good so maybe there is a chance. I'd have to approach it just right, however." Alfred thought. "So Alfred, what do you want for Christmas?" Alfred's mother asked. Before he could stop himself he blurted out, "I want an Italian-built, Columbus-tubed fixed gear bike!" Hearing this, Alfred's mother stayed silent, just sighing. Alfred regretted saying so and felt guilty. But that night, when Alfred started dreaming, Alfred's mother heard "Bike, Italian-built, haw-haw……" The words jumped from Alfred's mouth. As a result Alfred's mother worked hard, dragging her exhausted body home very late, with her hands frozen red. Finally the big day arrived but poor Alfred didn't cheer up for he knew that he would never own that bike. So he got home later than ever, "Merry Christmas, Alfred." His mom said delightedly. "Merry Christmas, mom" Alfred answered downheartedly. Suddenly he found a big box behind the table with a tag saying "To: Alfred from Santa." He tore at it curiously. Much to his surprise, it was a bike! It was the bike he had dreamed of for such a long time. Surrounded by the torn wrapping paper it was even more beautiful than it had been in the window of the bike shop. Alfred ran his hands lovingly over the leather saddle and looked at his mother, "Can I...," he began to ask. "Go on, dear," Alfred's mom replied smiling.