"Do you believe?"

Friday, one of my littlest, quietest girls, the one who gets off the bus last, shuffled to the door, looking despondent.

She looked at me with big, sad brown eyes. "Miss Angelia, do you believe Santa Claus is real?" she asked. (I'm still presenting female at work)

Oh boy. There are a LOT of ways to answer that question. Here's the best I could do on the fly.

"The man who was Santa Claus  lived long ago. His name was Nicholas, and he was a bishop in a country called Turkey. He was a good and generous man, and became a saint when he died. St. Nicholas became Santa Claus in English, and he's not a man anymore, but an idea. And ideas are the realest things there are. He is the idea of all the good things we do and all the kinds of love we have for other people. And on Christmas, that idea spreads through the world, and everyone shares it and makes it real."

It's not "Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus" but she smiled again and looked like she could believe that, even if the bigger kids had told her there was no fat man in a red suit.

Sometimes, the old Sage gets it right. And I hope I did this time.