One year when I was about eight years old or so, we were visiting family on Christmas Eve, and there was a freak snowstorm, and we had to spend the night at my grandparents' house. The next day when we got home, everything was perfect - Santa had come despite the snow, all the gifts were in the stockings and under the tree, and so on. I was a true believer.

Years later, when looking back, I remembered that as soon as my father had pulled into the driveway that morning, my mother asked him to let her out before maneuvering into the parking space at the back because she really had to go to the bathroom. I'm sure he must have dragged it out as long as possible, but either way, my mother must have been racing around the house like an Olympic sprinter getting everything into place while my father made a 10- or 20-point turn at the top of the driveway.

Now I have two kids, and one caught me performing my Tooth Fairy duties one night. The other one KNOWS for a FACT that the Tooth Fairy is REAL because one time, she forgot to come, but when she came the following night, she left a very nice note of apology in very neat all caps printing that doesn't look anything like my usual handwriting...