My 8-year-old son asked me if Santa Claus is real. Here’s what I told him

In December last year I caught a nasty virus that rendered me completely mute for weeks, unable to squeak out a sound.

I carried a pad of paper with me everywhere, scrawling out requests and answers and the occasional wry comment until one day a week before Christmas my almost 8-year-old son came home with the worst playground news ever and the innocence-busting moment parents dread: Is there a Santa?

Not since the flu vaccine have I been so grateful for a virus, pointing to my throat, the universal sign for “I can’t talk.” I wrote something on my pad about “Santa spirit=Love=We give gifts,” which is exactly as inadequate as it sounds.

After I got over the impulse to be That Parent who goes crazy on the playground truth-teller, I sat down at my computer to write my answer. The time allowed provided thinking space that an immediate answer wouldn’t have, and here is what I wrote for him:

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