Mateo frowns before spinning on his heel and going to sit on the couch with his arms crossed.

“Santa, we have you set up over here.” Kenzie directs my attention to the chair beside the Christmas tree. It looks just like something you’d find Santa sitting on at the mall. These people have spared no expense to give their children the ultimate Santa experience.

I follow Kenzie to the chair and sit. All the children hover eagerly around me in a semicircle, waiting for the go-ahead from their parents.

“Mommy, who gets to go first?” asks a little girl in a red dress, her hair pulled back into a curly ponytail.

The pregnant woman who must be her mum—and I think is Enzo’s wife, based on the fact that he has his arm wrapped around her waist—answers. “Arianna, it’s going to go from oldest to youngest this year since last year we did the opposite.”

She crosses her arms and frowns. “I’m never gonna get to go first. I’m not the oldest or the youngest.”

A few of the adults laugh.

“Welcome to being the middle child, kiddo,” Enzo says and tugs on the end of her ponytail affectionately.

“You’re up, Giuliana,” one of the men says. He and Enzo look like they could be brothers, except he’s a little older than Enzo.

“Yay!” Giuliana rushes over, her long dark hair swinging and her sparkly navy-blue dress swishing. She plops herself right down on my lap when she reaches me.

“Hello, Giuliana. Now tell me, how old are you now?” I ask in my best low Santa voice.

“I’m eight,” she says proudly, and I see with her grin that she’s missing one of her front teeth.

“You’re getting so big. Have you been a good girl this year?”

We go through the usual questions, then it’s Arianna’s turn, who turns out to be seven, and her brother Mateo, who’s six years old. Finally, it’s time for the little guy who’s been hovering around his parents the whole time, fidgeting as though he can’t wait for it to be his turn.

“Hi, Dante,” I say when I help him up onto my lap.

“Hi, Santa. I’m five. I know you’re going to ask.”

I chuckle. “I was. Now tell me, have you been a good boy this year?”

His mouth twists to the side as though he’s not sure how to answer. “I’ve been good, but Santa, I want to know why you have an accent.”

My eyes widen and I immediately seek out Kenzie for help. She’s looking at me with the same expression I imagine is on my own face. Shock and disbelief, neither of us thought of that.

When I don’t answer right away, Dante goes on to say, “You didn’t have an accent last year or the year before that.”