"Anyone who believes in Santa Claus is a jerk!" announced Sammy Simpson emphatically.

"There is a Santa Claus, there is, there is!!!" cried the Boy. "Go home, Sammy Simpson, you don't know nothing!" With that the boy turned and ran into the house. He didn't really believe what Sammy said, but he'd ask Mother just to be sure. The more he thought, the more doubtful he became, after all, he had never really seen Santa Claus come on Christmas Eve, never really heard the reindeer on the roof, and there were even times when Santa hadn't brought all the things he had asked for; but Mother would know, he'd ask her, she knew everything.

The mother stood cutting out Christmas cookies when the boy came and stood quietly beside her, watching as she worked. He was quiet for a long time, afraid to speak because he didn't quite know what he was going to say. Finally he spoke up in an unusually small voice, "Mommy, is there a Santa Claus?"

"What?" "Is there a Santa Claus?"

The mother turned slowly, brushing her hands free of the flour which clung to them. She looked at the boy for a long time, then said gently, "What do you think?"

The boy stood and looked at her for a long time, then his eyes grew wide with disbelief. "Mommy!" he cried, then ran to his room sobbing. His world had fallen in about his ears, his confidence, all his beliefs were shattered. He cried as he had never cried before, he didn't care if Daddy said it wasn't manly, his world had changed, there was no Santa Claus!

Back in the kitchen, the mother slowly untied her apron, vowing to show her child that Christmas was not just Santa Claus, but that Christmas was, and is, a symbol of love.