Found myself at the mall last week. Shocking, I know.

Anyway, halfway between the Coach store and Borders, Iquestioned my son about Santa Claus. (He's been flirting with theage of disbelief since the Easter bunny blew it last year.)

Besides, sixth grade tends to deliver a beat-down on theinnocence of youth. But the trick is to find out his take withoutsteering the conversation one way or another.

"So, Miles," I asked. "I don't need to talk to you about SantaClaus this year, do I?"

"No, Dad," he said, smiling up at me. "But you might want totalk to Jasmine."

Suddenly worried I had to have the same conversation with hisolder sister, I asked him why.

"Because I don't think she believes in Santa anymore," hesuggested, obviously concerned.

Guess I'll try to break it to him next year.

But it reminded me how many of us are counting on a Christmasmiracle of our own when it comes to health reform. Whether it's thelawsuits winding their way through the courts, the statestrying to assert their sovereignty or the midtermpolitical power shift, so many of us are convinced we'll besaved.

And I'm here to tell you that any relief in the courts is yearsaway (at best), the states are a bigger financial mess than thefeds and trusting any politician to keep a promise is more na?vethan a 10-year-old crawling up on Santa's lap.

Merry Christmas.