Dear Marc, one of the things of having kids is knowing when to protect them from reality. You know, like the Santa bit. Going skiing, we were introduced to a man-sized arctic fox called Mickelina.
Vanja believed her to be the real shit, though we adults saw through the dress. We could tell that the stumbling walk was a result of Mickelina suffering from blindness, cause the eye holes in the suit were made too small. She had to walk assisted by an assistant. We understood that the poor, most likely underpaid, person inside the fur dress must be sweating like crazy.
The kids saw only magic. A talking, friendly, arctic fox coming to visit! How nice! How unusual!
Then the other day, Vanja told me "I saw Mickelina had a zipper in the back".
I thought to myself, "Ok, here it is, the moment of truth. There's no Santa, no stork and perhaps no heaven either". I catched my breath and looked at Vanja, and I was just about to launch into my "well you see, sweetie..." when she looked at me and said "it was so cold out, she must have been wearing extra fur".
And the moment of truth sneaked out the back door.