My oldest daughter, Carly Grace, finally asked the big question: "Is Santa Claus real?"

Caught unprepared, I turned the question back over to her. "Do you believe he's real?" I asked. She said she did, but the passion was gone from her voice. At least I had temporarily weaseled out.

I realized later that her query might have been prompted by a visit the night before from the Tooth Fairy.

It was Thanksgiving week at Grandma and Grandpa Hall's in Ohio, and one of Carly's two 6-year-old front teeth was hanging low and loose.

The tooth could easily have been extracted a week earlier, but she postponed the inevitable. She wanted to see if the Tooth Fairy would be able to find her in Ohio.

I reminded her that the good fairy had already found her in Ohio once — summer before last when she lost her first tooth during a camping trip.

I was following her to the camper but was unable to stop her from falling face-first onto the metal doorstep.

The tooth, amazingly the only point of injury, plopped conspicuously onto the green outdoor carpet. It happened so fast, she barely cried.

Searching for a better way to address the existence of Santa Claus, I looked up the response to a letter written in 1897 to the New York Sun by Virginia O'Hanlon.

In the famous reply, Francis Pharcellus Church tells Virginia that her friends who doubt the existence of Santa Claus are gripped by "the skepticism of a skeptical age."

He goes on to explain that all minds, "whether they be men's or children's, are little. In this great universe of ours, man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge..."

It goes on and on in that classic-literature tone until Church finally throws out a good nugget for me: "Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in fairies!"

Indeed. The Tooth Fairy has it too easy.

Before plastic sandwich bags, the Tooth Fairy sometimes had difficulty locating teeth left under pillows. Placing the tooth in a sandwich bag, I advised my daughter last week, would ensure a larger reward.

That's as much information as I've ever provided on the Tooth Fairy, and yet her existence — or his, for all we know — has never been questioned.

Santa Claus, on the other hand, is very well documented. We know where he lives, how he dresses, what kind of vehicle he drives, where he parks during deliveries, and how he gains access to our house.

We even visit with him at the mall well ahead of the big day.

Precious little has been written on the Tooth Fairy. I had to consult Wikipedia to learn that the Tooth Fairy probably came from an 18th century French-language fairy tale.

No one's ever even seen the Tooth Fairy, and yet she, or he, is allowed to flitter from bedroom to bedroom unchallenged.

And for what? A couple of lousy dollars at best.

Compare that to the goods Santa delivers right on time every year, year after year, teeth or no teeth.

When the subject comes up again, I'm ready.

Yes, Carly Grace, there is a Santa Claus. And frankly, he's a little put off by the question.

Mark Rutledge can be contacted at mrutledge@coxnc.com