I found my small son crying
and asked, “What’s this about?”
He said there was no Santa Claus –
of this he had no doubt.

I cuddled him and gently asked
what put this in his head.
Apparently, at school today
some bigger boys had said.

“They said it’s you and Mummy
who leave the toys for me
and Father Christmas doesn’t come
to bless our Christmas tree”

He looked at me imploringly
I had to put him right
and tell him where I knew his presents
came on Christmas night.

“If it’s Mummy or it’s me
as these big boys believe,
why do we never leave you toys
except on Christmas Eve?

And why do you think Mummy
or that Daddy would do this –
Don’t you think, if it were us,
we’d want a great big kiss

when you wake up on Christmas Day
to presents on your bed? –
and wouldn’t we wait anyway
till Christmas Day instead?”

I told him Father Christmas loved him
more than he could know
and, so long as he believed in him,
that love would never go.

His small face shone, the tears had gone.
Love filled my very pores,
I knew the reason I’d been born –
and the truth of Santa Claus.