"So, do you still write letters to Santa?" Bobby asked.
Dick Grayson focused on his sandwich while some of the other boys in his third-grade class talked back and forth.
Pete said, "Nah, I don't think he's real, so it'd just be a waste of time."
"No way," Louie chimed in. "If he's real, then he knows what you want. If he's not real, then you know it's just your folks who read it and it's a way to ask them for stuff without sounding like you're asking for stuff."
"They never see the letter, though", said Andy. "The Post Office doesn't give it to them."
"But you don't give it to the Post Office," Jimmy replied. "You give it to your folks. So they read it instead of mailing it."
Bobby turned to Dick. "What about you, Dick?" he asked.
"Well," Dick said slowly. "We never did anything with Santa. Mom and Dad said it was because Santa would never be able keep track of where the circus was."
"But now you're at Wayne Manor," Pete said.
"Yeah," Andy agreed. "And that's not going anywhere."
The other boys responded by throwing their wadded up napkins at him.
"So, Alfred, did you ever write a letter to Santa?"
"I believe I did at one time, Master Dick," the butler replied. "Why do you ask?"
"Oh, just wondering," Dick answered. "Some of the kids were talking about it today."
"Would you like to write a letter?" he asked.
"Dunno. Thinkin' about it."
Later, when he went to his room, he discovered that there were a couple sheets of stationery and a stamped envelope sitting on his desk.
Dear Santa,
I never wrote you a letter before and I don't know if you're real or not, but I thought I'd write this one.
I really don't need anything, because Bruce gives me everything I need and a bunch of the stuff I want. And if you're real, it'd be kind of tough to get into the manor. I can't tell you why, but trust me.
I wanted to ask you for something, though. I know you're not God, but if you're real, you'd have to work for Him to be able to get to all the houses on Christmas Eve so maybe He can let you do this.
Would you be able to tell my mom and dad that I miss them? I still love them, and I look at their pictures every night. Tell them that Bruce takes good care of me, so I'll be okay. He doesn't give me the same kind of hugs they did, but he's really nice and I can talk to him about stuff I used to talk to them about. I wish they were here so I could tell them, but since they're gone, maybe you could tell them for me.
Sincerely,
Dick Grayson