Chapter 2

A/N: Hey! I'm glad everyone liked the first chapter. By the way, I am changing Michelle's age to 7 (and her grade to 2nd…but that part doesn't really matter). After looking over the first part, I realized that I can't write 8-11-year-olds and am much better at younger kids' POVs. Besides, it's way more fun to write about little kids and this story would make more sense if Michelle were younger. If this causes anyone confusion I am sorry.

Disclaimer: I forgot to mention a few things last chapter. Obviously, any songs mentioned in that chapter (and in any future chapters) are not mine and belong to their respective writers. And, you know, I don't own Full House or any other show/thing you recognize..

For the next hour, Danny sat on the easy chair, thinking. The phrase, "I have to tell Michelle" wouldn't get out of his head. What he hadn't realized at the time he said it was how daunting the task actually was. Honestly, he had no idea how he was going to explain it to Michelle. When he had woken up this morning, he hadn't expected to have to add, "Break youngest daughter's heart" to his to-do list.

Speaking of which, that was another thing that had been bothering him lately. Michelle was now seven. It seemed like just yesterday that he, or Jesse or Joey, were changing her diapers, somewhat comically. He just couldn't picture his little girl growing up. Yet, here it was – by not believing in Santa Claus, part of her childhood would be lost. How long would it be before all parts will have disappeared?

"Danny, what's the matter? You've been sitting there staring into space for a long time." Joey commented. He had changed out of his cartoon pajamas into jeans and a sweater after their earlier conversation, and he had come back to reclaim his spot on the couch, next to which Jesse still sat. They had often laughed or said something about the cartoon they were watching, but Danny had remained silent the entire time, barely acknowledging that the other two were in the room.

"Huh – what?" Danny, startled out of his reverie, held still for a moment to clear his head. Finally, he answered, "I'm fine, really. It's just that, Michelle's getting so old…"

Joey laughed. "Oh yeah, 'cause, once you hit seven it's all downhill."

Danny couldn't help but smile. "You know what I mean. I remember when I first told her about Santa Claus. Now it's time to, well, untell her. I've gone through the end of D.J. and Stephanie's childhood, but still, every time it happens it takes my by surprise."

"Look, Danny, don't bother with thinking about something you can't change. Everybody has to grow up sometime." Jesse looked at Joey, thought for a second, then said, "Correction. Mostly everybody."

Michelle sat on the cold, shaky bus seat, trying to prevent herself from crying again. No, not again. Not when everyone else can see me. And laugh at me some more. Thankfully, Denise had stuck by her side throughout the school day and was now sitting next to her. She didn't know what she would do without her best friend. Well, if it wasn't for her, I definitely wouldn't have gone back into my classroom. But she had – but only after Denise had begged her to.

The rest of the day had been one of the most awful days of her short life. When she had come back into the classroom, the kids hadn't laughed at her, but it was only because the teacher told them not to. She could tell – every time a kid would pretend to suck their thumb or mouth the word baby Mrs. Applebaum would glare at him or her. But that's nothing compared to recess. For one, incredibly long hour she and Denise stood by themselves in one of the dark corners of the playground. No one wanted to play with a baby, after all. Especially when Butch would make fun of anyone who tried to be nice to the two.

When the bus pulled up to her house, Michelle smiled for what seemed like the first time that day. Home. And Daddy. Two of the things she loved most of the world were only a few feet away. In just a small number of minutes, she would be off this stupid bus and wouldn't have to see her classmates again for another…good amount of hours.

The doors opened, and Michelle slid out her seat and said good-bye to Denise. She hurried up the aisle of the bus, carefully avoiding any of the other children's stares and pretending not to hear their snickers. Clutching the straps of her backpack, Michelle ran down the walkway and turned the doorknob.

Danny looked up when he heard the front door swing open. There stood Michelle, with her backpack that had fallen down to her ankles and her t-shirt, which was wet from having been used as a tissue so many times. Her face was all blotchy, red, and, as much as he hated to admit it, tearstained. Someone had made his little baby girl cry. And if it wasn't for the fact that that "someone" was another seven-year-old, Danny would have found him and done something about it. "Aw, honey, come here." He held out his arms, and Michelle kicked her backpack aside and ran into them. "Mrs. Applebaum called. She said that you had a pretty rotten day."

Unable to say anything, Michelle nodded. She was so relieved to finally be in her father's arms, where she could cry all she wanted. It's weird. I can finally cry…but I don't want to. Before she broke down into sobs again, she had to straighten something out. She was about to say what was on her mind, but then she spotted Jesse and Joey, who had been silent ever since she came in. For some reason, she didn't want them to be here when she finally asked the question that she'd been dying to ask her dad all day. "Daddy…can we go in the kitchen?"

A little puzzled, Danny just shrugged and answered, "Alright. Whatever you say, sweetheart." With that, he followed Michelle across the living room.

As he watched Danny walk with Michelle, Jesse said, "You know, Joseph, I think I feel a song coming on…" He took a deep breath, then belted out in a low, soothing voice, "'Is this the little girl I carried?….'"

Joey smiled, then joined in. It's been such a long time since they had a group sing-a-long! "'Is this the little boy at play?'"

Together, the two men sang, in perfect harmony, "'I don't remember growing older, when did they?'" They continued to sing until Danny and Michelle had completely passed through the kitchen door.

Ah, memories. Danny laughed silently as he heard Joey and Jesse's singing. He distinctly remembered Stephanie's first day of kindergarten, on which the three of them had sung that song, Sunrise, Sunset, as D.J. and Stephanie were walking out the door. The amount of time that had passed since then never ceased to amaze him. "So, Michelle, what did you want to ask me?" Danny asked. He sat down on one of the chairs that were around the kitchen table so that he could be eye-to-eye with his daughter when they talked.

Michelle just stared at her father for a second, as if debating over the best way to say it. Finally, she blurted out, "Daddy, is Santa real?"

"Well, honey, Santa…" For some reason, Danny found himself unable to continue. He had known that this question was coming ever since Mrs. Applebaum called (or, to put it technically, ever since he told her about Santa – she was going to ask it eventually), but he was still dumbfounded. However, Michelle was looking at him, waiting for him to say something, anything, so it wasn't like he could take time to write a speech down on little index cards. Starting to feel pressured, he hastily thought back to the time his mother told him the truth about Santa.

Danny was eight-years-old that year. His best pal Joey Gladstone had gotten a giant, bright red toy fire engine for his birthday, and young Danny wanted one just like it. He used to pass a toy store on his way home from school, and, just a few weeks before Christmas, what looked like an exact replica of Joey's fire engine was shown in the store window. When Danny saw that display, he had run home and written a letter to Santa, detailing the exact make of the truck and what store it could be found in. He proceeded to do so every day, and when Christmas morning came, he had woken up early and ran downstairs, expecting to find a huge box under the tree. Danny's heart had been crushed when he realized that the huge box wasn't there. Later on, his mother had sat him down and told him the facts – but in a way that he hadn't been too upset.

That's what I'm going to tell Michelle. Danny began, "In a way, Santa is real. Just not the way that you know him."

Michelle was very confused. How could there be two Santas? "What do you mean?" ­­­­­­­­­­­­­­

"To you, Santa is the big jolly guy in the bright red suit that drives a sleigh pulled by eight flying reindeer. That Santa was created by people who wanted to express the actual one – "

"So he isn't real." Michelle concluded. She was shocked – she had expected her father to tell her that Butch was just making up stories. She hadn't expected him to agree with the meanest bully in school. "Then…the dad really does dress up like Santa every year…"

"Yes, well, in our case, 'dad' would be Joey…"

"And I guess…Aunt Becky puts our presents under the tree?"

"Yep."

"And you eat the cookies and milk I put out for 'Santa'?"

"No, that would be Joey again."

"And there really is no reason why the chimney has to be squeaky clean?"

"That's not true. There's still germs in there that need to get washed out.at least once a year."

"Oh." Michelle's voice was very small and barely above a whisper. She tried to think of anything else that needed to be cleared up, but her mind was drawing a blank.

Suddenly remembering what he had been saying before Michelle interrupted, Danny continued. "But, Michelle, there's another point to this. Santa does exist, but we just can't see him. He's what adults call that feeling you get inside when you want to donate to charity or give your time to those in need. He's what makes you want to help others, whether it's by helping them read a story or just pick up their toys. He's the spirit of Christmas, Michelle, and he is real – you just have to look a little harder to find him."

"Oh." Michelle repeated. She was still upset. In fact, she had stopped listening after the word "year." Not only was she upset, but she was angry. How could Daddy lie to me all my life? He, and everybody else, tricked me, year, after year… Part of her still didn't believe, no, refused to believe that everything that pointed to Santa's existence was a fake. Maybe he was lying to her now, but he just didn't want her to believe in Santa for some strange reason. All she knew was that she needed some time to think. "Daddy, I need to go to my room."

Danny sighed. He couldn't tell exactly what his daughter was feeling, but whatever it was, it wasn't good. Her face was a mixture of hate, anger, sadness…everything except understanding. "Alright, honey. Come down later if you want to talk some more." He sighed again as Michelle ran up the stairs to her room and slammed the door.

A/N: Wow, that's a long chapter. Ah, well – 'till next time.