Meet my good friend Paul. One day at work, we all started to trade stories about how we learned (spoiler alert!) that there was no Santa Claus. Paul won. He said that his parents always had a party on Christmas Eve. He was little and had to go to bed. But he was so excited about Santa Claus arriving that night that he kept calling for his mother to come to his bedside. “I hear the reindeer on the roof. I think Santa Claus is here.” As his mother’s patience grew thinner because she wanted to return to her guests, Paul’s excitement escalated. So much so that he threw up. That was it for Mom. She looked him straight in the eye and announced, “There is no goddam Santa Claus! I’M SANTA CLAUS!” I love his mother, love that she invites me to her excellent St. Joseph’s Day dinner each year. And each year, without fail, we laugh about how she disabused her young son of his cherished Christmas belief.