Early in December, Megan approached her dad. He sat in the living room, watching videos on his tablet.
“Does Santa have an Instagram?” she asked.
Her dad pulled out an earbud and focused on his daughter. “I don’t see why not.”
“That’s good. I thought about emailing him, but Instagram’s better,” said Megan.
“Good idea,” dismissed her dad, as he returned to his tablet.
“Dad,” said Megan.
Her dad sighed. “What’s up?” he asked.
“Does Santa have a Patreon account?” she asked.
“I don’t think so.”
“Then how does he get paid? Is it from endorsement deals? A lot of companies use him in their advertising,” mused Megan.
“He’s independently wealthy,” said her dad.
“Oh. Like Elon Musk?” asked Megan.
“Something like that,” concluded her dad, trying to get back to his video.
“He must be really rich, ‘cause he makes all those toys every year. How did he get his wealth?”
Her dad closed his tablet and set it in his lap. “Why are you so curious about this?”
Megan frowned. “What if he ran out of money and couldn’t do it anymore. I’d hate to see an old man lose his dream.”
“You just don’t want to lose free stuff,” said her dad, knowingly.
Her dad shook his head. “You know, you’re twenty years old,” he said. “At some point you’re supposed to stop believing in Santa Claus, and start believing in the government.”