Santa Claus has twinkling blue eyes, a full white beard, a kind voice and a genuine smile, and that is what the girls find when they climb onto his knees at the Christmas party we attend each year. At five I am happy for this consistency, knowing that this kind of wonder has an expiration date.
This year Jack snuck back in, after the children had moved on to cookie decorating, to inquire of Santa, would he possibly be available to stop in at our Christmas party, the following weekend. Santa looked up, "Jack, of course, good to see you", and my husband, a man who is perfectly content to let his Christmas spirit live in me and the children, was silenced. To be fair, he had talked to Santa before, the previous December, and then of course those years long ago, before he was too smart, before he tried to make sense out of all this holiday joy.
Jack reached for a business card but Santa stopped him, "I have your number", and he called a few days later, and then appeared in his big red suit last Saturday evening in our living room.
Yes Jack, there is a Santa Claus.