Hold all my calls.
Christmas, Christmas
Christmas, Christmas
Christmas, Christmas
Girls, it's time.
Dad, no.
I have to keep feeding the Christmas Panda
or the Panda will die.
His death is on your conscience.
I hope bedtime was worth it.
Who said bedtime?
It's time for the grand finale
of Templeton Christmas Traditions.
Dad tells a holiday-themed story
until you fall asleep. Whoo!
Do we have to?
I'm in the middle of something.
Christmas, Christmas, Christmas... Hey.
Why do we have to do something
just because it's a tradition?
I know someone
who felt the same way you did.
Who? Do I know them? Do they have a beard?
Or a curse that makes them sing?
It was actually your Uncle Ted.
And once upon a time...
Sneaky story intro.
When he was a baby,
he hated our Christmas traditions,
even though they were
the most awesome traditions ever.
Five days before Christmas, we played...
Shock That Elf.
- It's your dad's year to be the elf.
- All right.
But me and my elf buddy here
are pretty hard to...
Merry Christmas.
Four days before Christmas,
we'd make cards for our grandparents.
A Christmas tree.
A reindeer.
The baby made Santa's sleigh.
Three days before Christmas,
we'd sing the most soulful
bass-and-glockenspiel rendition
of "The Night Before Christmas"
you've ever heard.
'Twas the night before Christmas
And all through the house
Not a creature was stirring
Not even a mouse
Two days before
Uncle Ted's first Christmas,
that's when the magic started.
Work with me, baby.
Aw, there. Our handsome little elf.
Ooh! I'm gonna grab the camera.
I thought Christmas was a day,
not a month.
You can't contain
Templeton traditions to one day.
That's like trying to hold eight ants.
Too many ants.
You performed "The Night Before Christmas"
three days before.
Performing it on the actual night
before Christmas is bad luck.
Uh, you put a gingerbread fellow
in my pocket?
Because it is good luck.
And yet I'm still here,
wearing this.
Where's yours?
Not participating in today's
"dress like a court jester" tradition?
That's not today's tradition. We...
Who's ready
to get their pictures taken with Santa?
I'll be right there
with you the whole time.
We sit on his lap, tell him what we want.
It's the easiest and best tradition.
You don't have to freak out.
Danny?
Tim, check this out.
A snowball?
I'm gonna throw it in Santa's face.
What? You'll get on the naughty list.
Oh, I'm always on the naughty list.
I don't give old Kringle the power
to suppress my animal instincts.
But only good kids get presents.
Do only they?
Naughty-listers
get the greatest present of all, coal.
The black rock with a million uses.
Heat, decoration, other. It's a win-win.
Want me to split this in two?
We can totally flank Santa.
No, I work hard to stay on the nice list.
Who do you think gave them quarters
for massages?
Suit yourself.
We should probably get up.
I've been trying to.
Come on up.
Timothy Templeton. Four T's in it.
This is Theodore.
Same last name, one less T.
Boss Baby.
Ron.
Um, what is happening?
We used to work together, a long time ago.
Wait, Santa is...
Former Baby Corp.
As disloyal as a cat
with trade secrets to sell.
Oh, Boss Baby.
I'm just trying
to spread joy and happiness.
Blah, blah, blah.
I heard it all the day you quit.
When will Mommy and Daddy take a picture?
- Honey, take a picture.
- I'm trying, I'm just so relaxed.
I left Baby Corp because I had this idea
of how to make the world a happier place
with Christmas cheer.
Think it's working?
You're doing fine.
Don't side with this hippie.
He betrayed everything
Baby Corp stands for.
He poached half the company
for his toys-for-nothing program.
And he's exploiting baby labor
to make those toys.
Elves. Elves make the toys.
Oh, come on. That's just marketing.
Whoa, they are babies?
- Okay, say cheese.
- Cheese.
Smile for your parents.
I will never be caught smiling
with a commie like...
Gotcha.
h*, h*, h*!
I'm on the nice list, right?
Tippy top.
Yes. For Christmas, I want
Football Mike Canadian Football Edition
with the locker room Jacuzzi playset.
You write that request
in official letter form?
Now he loves paperwork.
You know it.
Drop it off with my elves,
and have a Merry Christmas.
Thanks, Santa. You too, bye.
I see you, Danny Petrosky.
Naughty list life forever.
See? Wasn't that fun, little guy?
Look, Cracklin' Bones O'Dell
and the Caroling Cracklettes.
h*, h*, h*!
Put me down. I have a score to settle.
You won't do anything
to get me on the naughty list?
I'm not a monster, Templeton.
Santa Claus is.
So, Ron, you like getting mail?
Well, here's a special delivery.
Huh?
Not like you to be sleeping on the job
on Christmas Eve, Dongle.
It's Christmas Eve? Where am...? Oh!
You still owe me 300 hollyberries,
Dongle. Pay up.
Why are you calling me...? Where...?
Oh, no.
Don't play dumb, Dongle.
I want my money before Boxing Day. Get it?
Do get it. Not Dongle.
Dongle! I'm so jolly to see you.
Not Dongle.
What's up with your voice, Dongle?
Are you sick?
I'm not Dongle.
Everybody, come quick.
Dongle's sick.
Dongle.
Can you see? Look at me.
I'm not Dongle!
It's Christmas Eve.
- You'll love it.
- Santa, Dongle is sorry for sleep...
Huh?
- What did you do with my brother?
- What did you do with Santa?
Oh, no. Are you...?
Dongle's name is Ding Dong Dongle.
Yeah, but you're an elf?
Superior toymaker of the North Pole.
When Dongle makes a toy,
so many jaws drop to the floor
that the jaw doctor can buy a new mansion.
You made a rocking horse from the crib?
Is it perfect?
Then yes.
Wait, so if you're here,
then my brother is...
At the North Pole, of course.
Does Dongle look like he is from Texas?
Imagine cowboy hat Dongle.
Very handsome.
So he's with Santa? Aw.
We gotta get him back now.
It's his first Christmas.
We have more traditions he has to do.
Dongle needs to get back now.
Or the world will be bombarded
with inferior toys
that blacken children's hearts.
My brother works at Baby Corp, so all we...
Baby Corp.
Can't make toys to save their lives.
Does that situation come up a lot?
Dongle could tell you stories.
Yes, please. But later.
Baby Corp is our only hope
to get out of this.
Jimbo, Staci, we have a situation.
T-W-A-F-E-R.
TWAFER.
"Tommy wants a fire engine, red."
TWAFER. TWAFER.
Not now, Dongle.
I'm not Dongle, Ron.
Boss Baby?
What the jingles are you doing here?
The question is,
how the jingles do I get out of here?
Oh. I'd love to help,
but I'm memorizing letters.
If I don't get their requests locked down,
it'll take me weeks to deliver gifts.
Speaking of jingles, "jingle."
"Judy is now getting lavender earmuffs."
J-I-N-G-L-E. JINGLE.
You're an embarrassment to efficiency.
Get a computer.
The elves and I
are like a family business.
They make the toys, I do this.
These are our family traditions,
and they've made everyone happy
for a long time.
Yay for your family.
Take me home to mine, Big Beard.
I'm busy. I'll take you tonight
when I deliver presents.
What do I do in the meantime?
Help make a few toys,
and maybe learn
about the Christmas spirit.
- Any word on rescuing my brother?
- Sorry, ran into a snag.
Typical Baby Corp incompetence.
Typical Dongle excellence.
I won that trophy
for excellence in trophy modeling.
Stop making stuff out of stuff.
What's the snag?
Chupie tech is jammed at the North Pole.
Stupid Santa Claus.
Watch your mouth, Baby Corp mongrel.
It's less than 24 hours
until my brother's first Christmas.
If we can't chupie there,
we have to find another way.
Mom and Dad will be worried sick.
You relax.
Dongle will take care of everything.
This one's from Aunt Dorothy.
"Merry Christmas from Aunt Dorothy."
Oh, that's nice.
Is that a grenade?
Don't be foolish.
Dongle doesn't explode parents.
Dongle kills with poison gas.
What?
Do you smell?
Dongle told a sick joke.
This is Santa's sleeping dust
for when the children stay up to see him.
What the heck?
Drama is the spice of life.
Should give us time
to get to the North Pole and back.
But with them asleep,
I have to do the shopping
for our traditional fruitcake hockey.
Which we play while wearing Hawaiian leis
made from snacks. So fun.
Point is, we need to move fast.
No sweat.
Santa has magic portals in every mall.
They appear every night
after business hours,
but only until 9 a.m.
the day before Christmas.
We have 20 minutes.
Why didn't you tell us before?
Were you not paying attention when Dongle
told you drama is the spice of life?
So this is where Christmas comes from?
You bet.
We got Jingly Jangly there
doing wrapping paper design.
Ribbon testing with Tippy Tappy Sloppy.
Okay, okay, that one is good.
Lala Doo-Da and Diddly Doo
write all the best carols.
What kind of nog-house
open-mic garbage is that?
You wouldn't know a hit
if it knocked your tooth out.
And of course, toy-making with me,
PoopyDoopy, filling in for Dongle.
I admire your skill.
Why thank you.
But I can't help noticing
inefficiencies in your systems.
What?
I notice you make all your gingerbread
from the eggs of a single goose?
That's not just a goose.
She's Ginger the Gingergoose.
Sure. And dare I ask a follow-up?
Why have those elves been rubbing gumdrops
on the egg for two hours?
To make it the best gingerbread
in the whole world.
Dubious claim.
Try this.
Mm.
This is really good. What's the secret?
It's made with store-bought chicken eggs
and was stuffed in my pocket.
Delicious.
You guys get it now?
We need
to put our gingerbread in your pocket.
No, my point is efficiency.
You can't mess up gingerbread.
Just crack eggs in some batter.
Why does this goose
even have a job, right, Ginger?
What else needs fixing around here?
You're watching paint dry?
I thought you were on a deadline.
- We take pride in our wrapping paper.
- Just to be torn open?
You're wasting time.
But this is the way
we've always done things.
Not anymore.
Whee!
Boom, efficiency. Hit me with another one.
Carol writers, right?
Supposed to be.
But Diddly Doo overdid it
on the milk and cookies again.
Well, excuse me, Mother.
You ever feel like working?
We'll work when I tell you.
If I can make a suggestion... Oh!
Don't mess with our creative process.
You've got the talent of a wreath.
They're fine. What else you got?
I'm not laughing. Toss it.
Spin me up on this nonsense.
Everyone knows,
ribbon is no good if it doesn't tickle me.
I don't think that's true.
Oh, but it is.
No, it's not.
Pretty sure it is.
He's a genius.
Could it be, everything
we've been doing has been wrong?
No telling, but yes.
Please, walk with me.
A walk-and-talk? You're getting
the hang of this efficiency thing.
You're telling me.
You've been here an hour,
and our productivity is up 20 percent.
We might actually get a nog break
before Santa leaves.
Why settle for nog?
Imagine what else you could have.
Computers for
naughty/nice cross-reference.
Industrial ovens
for mass gingerbread baking.
Break rooms full of gumdrop delights.
And of course, mahogany crafters' lamps.
Yes, to ward off snow monsters.
Mahogany lamps ward off snow monsters?
Mahogany does.
Weird, I was just trying
to class up the joint.
We should redo
this entire floor in mahogany.
Mahogany? No. Why?
It'd help Christmas cheer
if no one was eaten by a snow monster.
These reforms will take
an upfront investment.
What's your cash on hand?
Fifty trillion hollyberries.
- In dollars?
- Seven.
Okay, we need to raise revenue.
What do you charge
to get on the nice list?
The only charge is
being the best you can...
Honk, honk.
You sillies are practically
feeding cash to the reindeer.
But it's always been free.
And your boss always wears
a red suit to a home invasion.
Tradition's a dumb reason to do anything.
You're running a business
that's stalled out below its potential.
It's k*lling my soul.
But good news?
You've got me.
The portal.
What? Yes. Hurry up, let's go.
Unmade toys, Dongle is coming.
No.
You had to stop at the snack cart?
I'm pulling double duty.
I have to rescue my brother
and keep my family traditions from dying.
Stop being so dramatic.
There has to be a simple solution.
Four plane tickets to the North Pole.
Great. Does anyone have $11,000?
I have 700 hollyberries.
I had to buy a winter hat.
I only have 10K five hunny.
So close.
Look, super speedy delivery.
"Santa letters and packages delivered
to the North Pole before midnight"?
We follow
the next delivery truck to the airport,
sneak on a jet
disguised as food-service workers.
When the crew asks, "Is that low-fat?"
I go, "No, it's high fist."
Double thumpers into a roundhouse kick.
We've put two on the ground,
because I'm good at kicking.
But we can't control the c*ck
until we defeat six crooked co-pilots,
each trained in a deadly martial art.
My plan was better.
Oh! Watch your elbows, Jimbo.
Dongle, don't eat all my snacks.
Dongle is not eating anything.
I hear little Chloe
is on the naughty list...
What's it worth to you
to get Josie into nice?
Start Scooter on the $50 nice package...
Isn't everything more beautiful
when it's profitable?
This makes me feel yucky,
like a sticky candy cane
that fell on a floor.
Remember, you're helping
to finance more efficient toy-making.
Things are looking up
for your compensation.
We're gonna get more Christmas cheer?
- You get paid in Christmas cheer?
- I wish.
We get paid in twinkly smiles,
which can be exchanged
for Christmas cheer.
You have to trade in at the Santa shop.
They're only open
for a half-hour on Thursdays.
Unless you send your smiles
by penguin messenger, which takes months.
What kind of hustle
is Santa running on you?
We love Santa.
We're like a family business.
Are you? I know Dasher
and Dancer and Prancer and Vixen.
All the reindeer do for 364 days a year
is eat grass and poop.
You elves do all the work,
and I couldn't name one of you.
Except you, DookiePoops.
- PoopyDoopy.
- Forget how things have always been done.
What do you deserve right now?
I would like a little recognition.
Yeah.
- Right.
- We should talk to Santa.
Last delivery for the season.
Put it there, right next
to the gigantic pile of letters.
Merry Chri...
We're here.
Good. Dongle is hungry.
Even though Dongle did not eat the snacks.
Uh, you aren't letters to Santa.
I'm disappointed.
But I like feeling disappointed,
so mixed bag.
Remove your funeral suit, sad vampire.
Dongle is here.
Is this the North Pole?
"North Pole." Yay, we're here.
It says "Noth Pole."
You left out the R.
At least I didn't write it backwards.
We could've ended up in Elop Htron.
This is the Noth Pole?
I'm the Noth Pole. That's my name.
I changed it so all the letters to Santa
with that misspelled word come to me.
It's thrilling.
That's a weird thing to be excited about.
Why? This is a pile of hopes and dreams
I can sell to collectors
for a lot of money.
We need to get to the North Pole.
And quick. Is that possible?
It's a 30-minute chartered jet ride.
I can make anything happen.
I'm Noth Pole.
- Yay.
- But I won't.
I don't really feel like it.
Don't touch my pile.
Dongle touched nothing.
These letters go for a fortune in Tokyo,
along with gum chewed by politicians,
industrial blueprints
from mobile home manufacturers...
What happens with
the kids who wrote the letters?
They just don't get
what they want for Christmas.
What? That's horrible.
No, I think you missed it. I get money.
Making money off of Christmas?
That's crazy.
Thank you, boy.
Your shouted words
have inspired me to change...
Yay, it's a Christmas miracle.
...my business model.
When Santa doesn't deliver
and children weep,
parents will do anything
to get them their toys,
even buy them from me at a huge markup.
Don't you use my ideas for evil.
You turned my letters
into a nutcracker in ten seconds?
- No.
- No, him.
Five seconds.
Ten is for lazy toymakers
who are not Dongle.
I like his style.
I've devised a deal.
I'll charter that flight,
but Dongle stays with me
to make 10,000 toys for profit.
No, we're not leaving Dongle.
Go save your brother
with the handsome face
that would look better in glasses.
Dongle will catch up.
- You sure?
- Merry Christmas.
You press that button,
Dongle will get you out of any jam.
Mostly toy-building jams.
That is where the button is of most use.
- Thank you, Dongle.
- Okay, this hug is done.
I'm going to the North Pole.
How do you handle the excitement
of being at the real North Pole?
You don't.
It looks like Baby Corp.
But Christmas-ier.
Let's go over the plan.
Me and Tim look for Boss.
I'll find what they're using to jam
our chupie transport tech, and smash it.
Got that, Tim?
I'm at the North Pole.
Can you keep it together?
No.
I'm actually in Santa Town. I'm gonna...
Um, hello?
Anyone home?
Anyone making toys?
Anyone Santa?
It's gingerbread.
Jimbo. Don't eat the toy factory...
Dang, break me off some of that wall.
Stop chewing.
I hear actual North Pole Christmas Cheer.
Then Santa said,
"Thanks, Tippy Tappy Slappy."
But I'm not Tippy Tappy Slappy.
I'm Tippy Tappy Sloppy.
Ugh. Breaks my heart.
Who's got another complaint
about Santa's mismanagement?
There's the boss. Hi.
We should have suggestion boxes,
but we don't.
So how do we suggest we get one?
What did you do?
Uh, good to see you too.
Where's the fun and jolly toy making?
This is Santa's factory.
Really? It's Santa who clocks in?
Santa who carves the horsies?
Santa spring-loading jack-in-the-boxes?
You're messing with Christmas.
It's a mess. I'm cleaning it up.
Christmas is perfect.
Everyone loves Santa and his elves.
Sorry to interrupt.
We're trying to recall Santa's nicknames,
but couldn't remember.
Can you help us?
Sure, Santa, Santa Clause, St. Nick,
Kriss Kringle, Father Christmas...
Cool, cool.
- Now name an elf.
- What?
You said,
everyone loves Santa and his elves.
You know every single one
of Santa's nicknames.
Surely you know just one of our names.
Uh...
Blitzen?
Blitzen? Blitzen?
Kid's confusing us with
those antlered stink horses?
You done did it now.
I'm done being a cog
in the Christmas wheel.
A wheel we probably made.
Santa's factory? Ha!
This is our factory.
Yeah!
Santa?
How long have you been...
What did you hear?
Enough.
All I wanted was to make everyone happy.
Well, you sure blew that.
Yeah.
We should get better than this.
You're right.
I hope I can do better next year.
Not the naughty list.
Santa.
There he is. On his sleigh.
- I can't believe it.
- I know.
He teleported to a sleigh that
would take two minutes to walk to.
Explains the, uh...
No, I can't believe he's gone.
Santa can't go on the naughty list.
He's Santa.
Why does it feel like
a man cave on Mother's Day?
A re-org like this usually takes weeks.
We should be celebrating.
Yeah, get it.
We had a misunderstanding.
Got the chupies working. Let's jet.
Look at that.
Still time to play fruitcake lacrosse.
- Hockey.
- One of those boarding school sports.
What about Santa?
What happens with Christmas?
These elves got it covered.
Uh... Not really.
This was about recognition
for making toys.
Delivering them is Santa's thing.
Because, you know, the sleigh.
This isn't a Santa problem.
It's a logistics problem.
Call in the paper pushers.
Simmons, Hendershot. On my location.
Is this the secret Christmas Party?
Bring on the nog.
- Nog, nog, nog...
- I got something better than nog.
We're gonna solve
Christmas toy delivery logistics.
Yay.
One fire dog, coming up.
This stump taken?
Santa? Why are you...?
Is this about the naughty list?
That snowball to the kisser
should've sealed the deal.
No one is questioning
your naughtiness, or mine.
Whoa, you finally made the jump?
Danny, you've been on my naughty list
since you were old enough
to pass gas at will.
Continue.
I joined the list 20 minutes ago,
and I feel like crud.
But here you are, happy as a clam,
roasting hot dogs on a fire...
Is that last year's bundle of coal?
Doesn't that taste like...
West Virginia?
Oh, yeah.
So how do we live with ourselves
when we've been so naughty?
Papa Noel, I'm glad you asked.
First get rid of this idea
that naughtiness is bad.
Naughty living is very healthy
and very normal.
What? You just...
Got my veggies in the naughtiest way.
Nice needs naughtiness
like night needs day
and turtles need shells
to hide their eyes during scary movies.
Give a naughty man a hotdog,
he'll have a hotdog.
But teach a naughty man to hotdog,
and he'll have a ton of hotdogs.
My ear lobe.
Don't forget, every Christmas morning,
naughty kids wake up to coal,
which is dead dinosaurs.
So while nice kids play with toys...
...we're playing with dead dinosaurs.
And that's rad.
Approaching target.
Open flaps.
Opening flaps.
And release.
Yes, Templeton?
What makes you think
you can do Christmas without Santa?
Uh, the fact that we are.
Let's get industrial fans,
make sure she can handle monsoons
in the South Pacific.
This isn't the same.
You need magic and wonder.
Or Christmas is just
a bonus birthday with a tree.
Yes, but you will get a lot of toys.
- Toys.
- Toys.
- Toys.
- Toys.
There's more to Christmas than toys.
It's how awesome it is
to see boot marks on snowy roofs.
- See if we can fake boot marks.
- On it.
It's seeing Santa's cookies gone,
except a half-eaten one.
Kids pick it up like,
"Santa's teeth touched this."
You're holding on to Christmas past.
This is Christmas future.
Satisfaction guaranteed.
All sales final.
Ha. Silly Gingergoose.
Hello, animal that is not a dog.
Dongle, where have you been?
The usual.
Living the most incredible life.
Who's your friend?
My chisel is my friend.
My sander is my confidant.
This one gave me a ride.
We are not friends.
We're also not enemies.
We're next to each other.
- Any more questions?
- Yeah, where are my hollyberries?
No more questions from you.
But one from Dongle.
Where is the big man?
Uh...
This is all wrong.
Your fellow elves
fighting for recognition is wrong?
No, if anyone loves recognition,
it's Dongle.
You are Dongle.
I recognize you.
Santa does more
than bring toys Dongle makes.
He brings people together,
makes people feel good.
Told you.
The world is changing.
It's time Christmas catches up.
How you sleep at night?
Guilt won't work on me.
Does Dongle look like
a disappointed grandmother?
Simple question. How you go to sleep?
Like every hardworking baby American.
Tucked into a firm swaddle
with a belly full of milk
and a night-night kiss
from Mommy and/or Daddy.
Night-night kiss is unnecessary, no?
You are tired, full, swaddled.
You fall asleep no matter what.
I don't need the kiss, but I like...
Oh, you led me right into that.
Christmas without Santa
is like bedtime without night-night kiss.
No one wants that.
Fine, you're all big elves.
You want Santa back? Go get him.
No, you go.
No chance. Why me?
Because from what you tell Dongle,
the Christmas man, he left in bad shape.
Hollow on the inside,
like a grocery store chocolate nutcracker.
He asks himself, "Who am I anymore?"
Yee-haw, h*, h*.
You break a Santa, you got to fix a Santa.
When you break a Santa this bad,
only one thing
can put his heart back together:
Seeing a bah-humbug stinker like you
find the Christmas spirit.
You will go get Santa.
And what happens if I don't?
Singing.
- Excuse me?
- Hit it.
He's vicious
He's twisted
He's Boss Baby
The baby that ruined
The baby that ruined
The baby that ruined Christmas
Ooh. Catchy hook.
Yeah, throw in some verses and a bridge,
I bet we could get
the whole world singing this.
Please, don't.
He came to the North Pole
And started fussing
Made Santa cry
With all his cussing
He took Father Christmas
All sweet and loved
And showed him just where
He could shove it
He's vicious
He's twisted
He's Boss Baby
The baby that ruined
The baby that ruined
The baby that ruined Christmas
This song makes me wanna dance.
And get rid of our Christmas-ruining baby.
On Christmas morn
All the kids did weep
For not a single toy
Lay beneath their feet
And just in case you forgot his name
The baby who we all should blame
Theodore Leslie Templeton
Shame, shame, shame
Christmas burned down
And he lit the flame
I love this song and hate this baby.
He's vicious
He's twisted
He's Boss Baby
The baby that ruined
The baby that ruined
The baby that ruined Christmas
Fine.
Promise me that song never
leaves this room, and I'll go get him.
But we still have a problem.
I'd get him, but I don't know where he is.
I can find him.
I'm the Noth Pole.
He gives me creepy motel check-in vibes.
Can you really find Santa?
Yes, for a price.
I want the letters to Santa.
- All of them.
- No way.
Santa needs those
to know what every kid wants.
Oh. I'd love to help,
but I'm memorizing children's letters.
If I don't get their requests locked down,
it'll take me weeks to deliver gifts.
Deal. You can have every letter.
What?
That's it. Every letter.
We did our part. You do yours.
The smiling red one lurks
at the mall in your hometown.
I'll remember none of you.
Go.
I can't help it.
One more time. Two, three, four.
The baby that ruined
The baby that ruined
The baby that ruined Christmas
Ron?
You here?
Yo, Ronny.
Santa?
Time to go.
Boss Baby?
But if someone like you would come for me,
it's never too late to change things.
There's no amount of naughtiness
the Christmas spirit can't...
Gonna cut you off before you embarrass
yourself worse than that outfit does.
I'm only here because
if I don't bring you back,
two pint-size hitmakers are gonna
smear my good name all over the Top 40.
Diddly Doo and Lala Doo-Da?
I thought the elves were all mad at me
because of how naughty I've been.
You're not naughty,
just stuck in your ways,
and grossly inefficient.
What do you pay in reindeer maintenance
for one night of use?
Can't you lease?
But for reasons beyond me,
the elves want you back for Christmas.
- And what about you?
- What?
What do you want for Christmas?
No.
No.
Hey, I'm stuck in my ways.
You want something from Santa?
Ask. I don't make the rules.
You absolutely make the...
Fine.
I got it. I got it.
- Come back to the North Pole.
- What, little boy?
I'd like you
to come back to the North Pole.
Santa can do that for you.
I think we just had
a Christmas spirit breakthrough.
Is this what it feels like?
I also want a tie clip,
a gold one with wings on it.
And one of those electric shoe polishers
you see in golf club locker rooms.
And gift cards. They're tacky,
but it's like plastic money.
That's what the Christmas spirit is.
Asking for things you don't need
and don't have time to get.
- No.
- Well, hey, you tried.
h*, h*, h*!
You have the worst catchphrase.
Yeah? What's yours?
Oh. I was trying to make
"fart poop doody" work, but...
Do your dumb laugh.
h*, h*, h*!
You've been busy.
Santa, I'm sorry.
It was everyone else
who messed with all the stuff...
- I like it.
- I helped.
Dongle. It's jolly to see you.
Dongle is a comforting presence.
A gift from all of us.
But don't worry, Dongle made it.
A Baby Corp monitor? Um...
Press the talky button.
I'm Baby Corp.
I'm incompetent.
First rule of business, I'm dumb.
Second rule, I forgot, because I'm dumb.
Look at the bottom.
"Dongle"?
We put our names on everything,
so the children know why they weep
with joy when they get a Dongle toy.
It's not the way things
have always been done, but...
If the way things are always done
leaves people unhappy, who needs it?
It's perfect. I'm sorry
I didn't think of this years ago.
Anyone know if this is edible?
It's that late?
It's not edible.
We don't have time. What have I done?
I'll never get the presents out tonight.
Is this guy's name Santa or Can't-a?
Efficiency, Ron.
Still got those gifts memorized?
Do I? TWCAFIJ.
Tim Wants Canadian
Action Figure in Jacuzzi.
He's got them.
Yeah!
Elves, Baby Corp,
let's Christmas.
- Like "let's do this" but...
- We got it. We just don't like it.
Let's Christmas.
Yeah!
Release.
- Toys.
- Toys.
- Toys.
- Toys.
I'd like your most expensive pinky ring.
Let's just say I've got enough letters
to fill vending machines
from Miyazaki to Hokkaido.
What?
No, no, no.
Dear Noth, stop selling letters.
It's not nice.
Here's a present, anyway. Love, Tim.
The scary broken toy
I wanted as a kid, but never got.
Mom, Dad?
It's Kyle.
A ten-speed bicycle from
Ding Dong Dongle, and it's made from wood.
Jingly Jangly made my teddy bear.
A baseball mitt.
And Tippy Tappy Sloppy the Elf made it.
Lucky the kids got Mom's genetics,
because Dad is a pile of yikes.
Santa?
A yo-yo.
Made by PoopyDoopy the Elf?
Thank you, Santa and PoopyDoopy.
I love it,
and promise to share with everyone.
How do we get past the kid?
You sick St. Nick.
I can't believe
I delivered presents with Santa.
Every last one.
Free of charge.
Oh, please, I helped.
Doesn't mean I'll dump my portfolio
and move to a commune.
Thank you, Santa.
Merry Christmas.
So, what lame teachable gift
that sums up this whole experience
do you have for me?
Santa?
Hello?
Nothing?
Don't you want me
to get the Christmas spir...? Ow!
h*, h*, h*.
They call me MC Christmas.
The C also stands for Christmas.
- Ted, it's Christmas morning.
- What?
We forgot to make snack leis.
We'll starve during fruitcake hockey.
We'll ruin our sweet little guy's
first traditional Templeton Christmas.
What if he isn't into
the traditional Templeton Christmas?
They're family traditions.
Our family's different now.
If the way we always do things
makes one of us unhappy,
let's do different things.
- I could come up with new ideas.
- Family brainstorm.
What are fun words
that rhyme with "wreath"?
Santa gave me snack leis,
so this tradition is back on.
Fruitcake hockey in the driveway.
- We'll get the sticks.
- Wrap the baby in sofa cushions.
Your mom plays violent.
I'll talk them out of that.
You don't have
to throw out every tradition for me.
You'll do fruitcake hockey and snack leis?
This wearable choking hazard? No.
But I'll play
your holiday dessert Canadian stick game.
- You will?
- It's nonsense.
But it can't be all bad if it brings
people together, and gets you all smiley.
Just like Santa.
I guess. I mean, if you squint
and don't think about it...
No. Feeling Christmas spirit.
Goal!
I got a sock full of dead dinosaurs.
Merry Christmas to all.
The end.
That was in no way
a "make us fall asleep" story.
- I have so many questions.
- Yeah.
Wasn't your setup about why we should do
goofy traditions even if we don't want to?
You bailed on that with your brother.
- Then he did some, but not others.
- What's the takeaway?
Want easy lessons? Go to kindergarten.
- Can I?
- Not until you're 5. Go to sleep.
- Five?
- How?
You opened a Pandora's box
of moral ambiguity.
Can we go to the zoo
if I don't make fun of the capybaras?
You grew up big and weird.
Okay, all done. Dongle k*ll kids.
Very funny.
Fool me once, shame on you.
Fool me twice...
Dongle is serious.
The big one deserved it.
She stopped feeding
the Christmas Panda and it died.
What?
Dongle tricked you again for drama.
You are welcome for the spice of life.
Merry Christmas.
Merry Christmas.
Boss Baby
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