Uncle Santa

"That's not Santa; that's Uncle Cary!"

Our five-year-old nephew Blane, ladies and gentlemen, announcing to a room of impressionable children &mdash including his baby brother, Brady &mdash that the man in the red suit was not the mythical St. Nick but rather Blane's very real Uncle Cary.

I quickly pulled Blane to the side.

"Quiet, will ya? You wanna blow his cover?"

Huh? his face replied.

"Yes," I admitted, "That's Uncle Cary because Uncle Cary is...?"

Still blank.

"Is Santa Claus," I finished.

"No he's not!" Blane scoffed.

"Uh, yeah."

"Nuh-uh!"

"Yuh-huh," I countered.

"Yuh-huh what?"

We both turned to find my six-year-old niece, Abby, had joined us.

"Aunt Darcy says Uncle Cary is Santa," Blane said in a tone of wavering doubt.

"No he's not," Abby said with a dramatic eye roll.

"Have you ever seen Uncle Cary on Christmas Eve?" I asked. "The few times you've seen him Christmas Day, hasn't he looked sleepy?"

"Santa lives at the North Pole," Abby stated, crossing her arms to reinforce the fact.

"Yeah," Blane added, also crossing his arms.

"That's what we want people to believe. Who would think to look for Santa in Rickreall, Oregon?"

Their arms dropped a little, their united front weakening. I made a good point, their furrowed brows said.

While they deliberated, Abby's brother, Drew, barreled past to stage-dive a pile of presents. That little linebacker may only be a year and a half, but he's as fearless as a rookie stuntman.

Blane brightened and pointed a finger at me.

"You and Uncle Cary don't have any reindeer!"

"Yeah!" Abby shouted.

"Who needs reindeer when we have four big dogs? Sherman could pull a sleigh all by himself."

"Yeah," Abby said, less enthused.

"Besides," I continued, "who needs a sleigh when..."

Blane's eyes widened, the truth coming into focus.

"Uncle Cary delivers presents in his race car?!"

"What else would make it around the whole world in one night."

"So Santa's Workshop..." Abby said, climbing aboard the I Believe Express.

"Is your Uncle Cary's shop, mmm-hmm."

"Does he have elves?"

"Doesn't need 'em," I waved. "He has power tools. And Internet access."

"How does he get down the chimney?" Blane asked.

"And what about kids who don't have chimneys?" Abby added.

"And where &mdash"

"Sorry; trade secrets," I said. "I've told you too much already &mdash but only because I trust you two can keep our secret. You can keep it a secret, can't you?"

Blane scowled and considered, taking the matter very seriously. After a long moment, he looked up and nodded once. I looked to Abby, who also nodded agreement.

"Good," I smiled. "Now let's go see whether 'Santa' is ready for a break, shall we?"

"Riiiight," they giggled together. "Santa!"