"What's up, honey?"
"You know, Mom... I don't believe in Santa anymore," he starts, giving me that sideways glance that all teens seem to perfect.
"Ye-e-e-ah..." I have no idea where he's going with this.
"Well..." There's a long pause as he looks out the window, away from me, before he turns back in my direction. "It just seems to me, that even if there's no Santa Claus, and even if there isn't any snow this week, there's still an awful lot of magic in the air at Christmas time."
I smile. "You're right," I tell him. "There really is."
And that was that. He turned up the volume on the car radio and we listened to Bing Crosby singing about a white Christmas for the rest of the ride. I have no idea where that thought process came from, but I was still smiling on the drive home. Because there is magic in the air at Christmas, and I'm glad he can feel it, too.