My brother Mike loves to dress up as Santa each year and pass out gifts to good little boys and girls.
He practices the HO HO HO and attempts to disguise his voice so that no one will know it is him. He's done an excellent job, too.
One year when our middle daughter Jen was 4 or 5, she was beyond excited about Santa's visit. She clapped with delight and was so entranced that she couldn't even open the present that he handed her.
Her eyes were glued to him as he waved goodbye, called out to his reindeer, and disappeared out the back door.
It wasn't too long after that he quietly sneaked back in through a side door and rejoined the merrymaking.
Our daughter, nervous from all the excitement, needed to use the "potty" and her grandma offered to take her.
When they opened the bathroom door, there lie Santa's clothes in a heap on the floor. In his haste, my brother had forgotten them.
Jen looked up at her grandma with eyes as big as saucers and a mouth drawn open in surprise.
"Oh No, Grandma!" she declared. "Santa is Naked!"