You know how much I love receiving gifts from you every Christmas even though I know very well that you’re just some big imaginary creature that parents use to push their children to be good or else Santa won’t have gifts for them. I’d have to confess that I did believe in you one Christmas when I stayed up the whole night expecting to see you climb down the roof and down the tall window of my grandmother’s house in the province. I saw no traces of you and then I fell asleep, but I did wake up with gifts on the foot of the bed and outside the window in the living room. Maybe you just didn’t make it, did you? Or is it because there was no chimney in Lola’s house?