About two years ago when my nephew was 5, he and my sister came to Trinidad to spend Christmas. That year, whenever my nephew heard anything about Santa he would say: “But Santa isn’t real.” However, one day he sat down with me and we both wrote letters to Santa. I can’t remember what I put (something intangible), but he asked for “any Sponge Bob thing”. We went to the Post Office on campus (with both letters in one envelope, if I remember correctly). My nephew was so short that the post lady only saw a little hand reaching over the counter clutching the letter. She peeped over, saw him and said: “What do we have here?” When she looked at the letter and saw it addressed in childish writing to ‘Santa Claus, North Pole’, she didn’t miss a beat. She said: “That will be one dollar, please.” My nephew paid with his dollar, stuck on the stamp and confidently slipped it into the mailbox.
I happened to have been in the Payless Shoe store a few days before and had seen Spongebob slippers, so I went back and bought a pair in his size, put it in a large brown envelope, addressed it to him and stuck on a stamp which had Santa on it.
On Christmas Eve, I put the envelope in my parents’ mailbox around the time that the post lady normally comes (middayish). Everyone but my nephew was in on the plan. My father went out to get mail and came back with the envelope from Santa, which my nephew excitedly opened. When he saw the Spongebob slippers he said “Wow! Santa IS real!” Then he shook his head and said: “No, Santa isn’t real. God is.”
It's interesting that he said that because even though I no longer 'believe in Santa', I still have a sense of silent anticipation on Christmas Eve night. I feel like God is Santa, doling out invisible, intangible gifts.