Mr. Claus, as she calls him, arrived at the tree lighting happily waving from the high seat of a vintage fire truck.

Mr. Claus, as she calls him, has a real beard she confided in me, therefore he must be the REAL Santa, NOT a helper.

Mr. Claus, as she calls him, has candy canes and he never ever runs out.

Mr. Claus, as she calls him, beckoned the little girl to stand alone in a long line and patiently wait her turn for her place on his knee.

Mr. Claus, as she calls him, had quite a knowing expression as my daughter whispered her most heartfelt desire in his wise old ear.

Mr. Claus, as she calls him, is not restricted by the worldly limitations her mother so often expresses.

Mr. Claus, as she calls him, may be the one, she shared with me, that gives the gift of talking to her three year old brother this year.

Mr. Claus, as she calls him, met the worried eyes of a mother that he knew shared the same hope for the whispered wish of the seven year old girl dressed in red and green elf shoes.

Mr. Claus, as she calls him, propelled a mother to be filled with gratitude and love for the man whose wistful face told her to try and believe.