A childhood belief about father christmas

My little sister, this past Christmas, yanked Santa's beard off in the food court in the middle of the mall, while sitting on his lap. She had used his beard to help her get comfortable on his lap... and it came off in her hand. The "elf" taking the picture just /froze/, unsure of what to do. It was almost closing time, the day BEFORE Christmas Eve, my sister was up well past her bedtime, and Santa's beard was in her hand. Fortuantely, there weren't a lot of little kids around (or many other people for that matter) to hear my four-year-old sister's shrill voice yelling, "SANTA'S NOT REEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAL!" and promptly bursting into tears.

Poor kid was so traumatized, I wrote her a letter the next day, as "Santa", saying that, if she had looked at the mall santa's ears, she would have realized he was one of "my" elves, working for me to find out what children wanted.

Well, it seemed to have worked, she ran into my room at 4 am Christmas morning, shrieking that she had gone downstairs "for a glass of water, Kate, I swear!" and saw Santa's boot tips in the fireplace...