Here it is, 11PM and I’m watching Law & Order SVU (again), only this time I happen to know the guy playing the crazy guy. In real life he’s super sweet and into transcendental meditation. On TV he plays a Manson-haired, insane, religioso. The separation doesn’t elicit more than a shrug from me, a seasoned adult. But what about the person-spirit-actor relationship for a child?

This week, I found out.

Two days ago, my son Oliver’s other mom called.

“Oliver asked about Santa. How he flies around the world in one night. If he is real. He said he thought Santa was more like a spirit… (here she pauses, a long time) so I said (again, pause) he was right.”

Not Santa, I thought.

Oliver just turned 6 a few days ago. And now there’s no Santa.

She continued, quietly: “So I told him that the Santa Spirit fills us up and we go and find Santa gifts for him… Then he asked how we found such special Santa candies [the chocolate rocks]. I told him the Santa spirit filled us…”

Uh-huh.

“And that is who Santa is…”

Uh-huh.

My mind: six years old – no Santa … six years old – no Santa. Flashback to being told there was no Easter Bunny when I was 9. Immediately turning to my parents, tears in my eyes: “So there’s no Tooth Fairy either? What about … S…S…Santa?”

But Oliver wasn’t devastated – wasn’t left feeling tricked and mocked. He was just interested in this Santa Spirit and, after some thought, said: “When I’m a man, I will get filled with the Santa Spirit and fly all over the world finding gifts for you.”

Then that afternoon he and I were making omelettes, he asked: “Mama, so how does Dottie become Dottie?”

“Magic?” I say, knowing that wouldn’t wash – and really, it shouldn’t. So I continue: “Dottie is a actress who loves children and always wanted to make them laugh. And she can do balloon animals and sing and play guitar. So she bought clothes and built a special house and got other people she knew to be puppets and play a fun pretend game … ah, you know your friend who can turn himself into a mouse? Games like that. Only, ah, not about fitting into super tiny mud-houses with leaf roofs and Q-tip chairs.”

“Uh-huh.” Oliver stirred the eggs while standing on his big boy chair. “Mama, I like when Dottie pulls things from her pockets. It’s like magic – it’s pretend but not everyone knows it’s pretend. I like to pretend.”

“It is fun to pretend,” I say.

“OK… Mama, I’m hungry.”

And that was it. Santa and Dottie lost in one day… well, not really lost but re-cast.