"Jon, I don't know everything. But I do know that your grandfather isn't dead."
Jon's eyes went wide. "Really?"
"Of course."
"How do you know that?"
He shrugged his shoulders. "I just do. I'm Santa Claus," he said, as if that was a reason.
"Do you know where he is?"
"Sorry, Jon. I don't. I just know who exists. If it was December, I could tell you. But, unfortunately, it's spring."
"What does the month have to do with it?"
Santa sat down and explained. "When Christmas time comes around, I gain the knowledge of whether boys and girls have either been naughty or nice. As the song goes. But I also gain the knowledge of where those children live. I have to. Otherwise I wouldn't be able to give them presents."
That made sense. But Jon still wanted to know where his grandfather was.
"I told you," Santa replied. "I won't be able to tell you until December."
"Actually, I might be able to help you out there," Jon said, holding up the wishing stone.
