I ran upstairs, to the fourth floor, where my dad was packing and asked, "Dad, can I go with him to the North Pole?"
"Joe, he's kidding. He doesn't really go to the North Pole," said my dad with a laugh.
I ran back downstairs to the moving truck. "My dad says you're joking."
"No, I really help Santa. Sometimes I help him feed his reindeer, too," said the guy.
This was too much. Help Santa make toys and feed the reindeer!?!