I stood up and walked around the desk and put my hands on his shoulders. "Mike," I said, "how many Christmases can you remember?"
"Gee, Daddy, I don't know. Lots and lots."
"Let's see, now. You're thirty-eight, and Christmas comes twice a year, so that's two times thirty-eight—seventy-six Christmases. Of course, you can't remember all of them. But of the ones you remember, did you ever not see Santa Claus, Mike?"
"No, Daddy. I always saw him."
"Well then, why come asking me if there is such a person when you know there is because you see him all the time?"
Mike-One looked more uncomfortable than ever. "Well, Adam-Two says he don't think there is a Cold Side of Number One Sun. He thinks it's hot all the way around, an' if that's so then Santa Claus couldn't live there. He says he thinks Santa Claus is just pretend an' that you or somebody from the Council of Uncles dresses up that way at Christmastime."
I scowled. How the devil had Adam-Two managed to figure that one out?
"Listen, Mike," I said. "You trust your Daddy, don't you?"
"Golly. Course I do!"
"All right, then. There is a Santa Claus, Mike-One. He's as real as you or me or the pink clouds or the green rain.... He's as real as Fairyland itself. So just don't pay any more attention to Adam-Two and his crazy notions. Okay?"