Twenty-eight years ago a nine year old was riding in the passenger's seat of her mom's car (no doubt without a seat belt), off to who-knows-where on a cold December day.
Me: Mom, someone at school today told me there's no Santa.
Me: So is it true? Is there no Santa?
Mom: Well . . .
Me: She said YOU are Santa, Mom. Are you Santa? Do you give us all those presents?
Me: (angrily) You ARE Santa, aren't you? You are!
Mom: Yes, honey, I am Santa, but I don't want you to tell your sisters, OK?
Me: I can't believe this. I can't believe there's no Santa.
Mom tries to explain, but I cut her off.
Me: Wait a minute. If you're Santa, then . . . NO! You're The Tooth Fairy too and the Easter Bunny?
Mom: Yes, honey, I'm them too.
Me: (starting to cry, still angry though) I can't believe this (but if I had known it then I surely would have said: "I can't be bothered with this!")
Mom: I'm sorry you're upset.
Me: I'm sorry you're a liar! Does Dad know about this?
Mom, probably trying not to laugh: Yes, he knows.
There is another long pause and then something terrifying occurs to me.
Me: Oh my God Mom. I mean . . . well, I guess I shouldn't say God because he's probably not real either. Are you God Mom? Are you God too?
Mom: Yes, I'm God too.