If you don't believe in Santa Claus, visit the Mall at Robinson

Meet Santa Claus. The real Santa Claus.

Not some sullen slacker with a glued-on nylon beard and heavy padding earning some extra dough for the holidays.

Oh, Santa doesn't mind those guys. After all, he can't be everywhere at once. He needs helpers to pick up some of the work.

But this Santa says he's the real thing, all 200-plus pounds of him, holding court through today at Santa's Castle at the Mall at Robinson in Robinson Township.

Round glasses perch on the tip of his nose, and as he listens to children's wish lists, he occasionally strokes his neatly-trimmed white beard that curves in at the ends. Scraggly wisps of shoulder length hair flow from under his red and white hat.

Yes, the beard and hair are real. Go ahead, give it a tug, he tells the children.

And he can tell them in seven languages, even sign language. He's teaching himself Swahili and Farsi and wants to learn Italian and Russian.

He needs to know this stuff. It's part of his job.

"I figure eventually I'll learn 15 or 16 languages," he said. "It's for the kids and their parents."

The mall staff learned by accident that Santa could sign. The story is lore now, another tale that adds to the Santa mystique.

Last year, his first in Pittsburgh, a girl of about 7 stayed behind as her little sister jumped on Santa's lap. The older girl, using sign language, told the younger one to smile.

Santa signed back, asking her to smile, too.

The wide-eyed girl ran to Santa, laughing and signing away.

Her parents bawled. Santa's helpers bawled. It was the first time in her life the little girl had spoken to Santa Claus.

The story still sends goose bumps up the spines of mall workers.

"No one knew I could sign, but that's one of those things. Of course I can sign. Duh," he said.

The mall loved Santa so much, it signed him to a five-year contract.

It's little surprise why. Not only is he winning over naysayers, he's a hit with petulant toddlers.

Kayla Cooper, 3, warily eyes Santa as she waits in line with her grandmother and older sister Kaitlyn.

"I'm not getting on his lap," she announces loudly.

Santa looks over at her and says gently, "That's OK. You can stand next to me if you'd like."

The girls inch their way toward him, dressed in identical red velour Christmas sweaters and bell-bottoms.

"My, don't you look beautiful. Did you get dressed up just to see me• I'm honored," Santa says, fussing over them and asking them to twirl around.

"How old are you?" he asks Kaitlyn, who holds up four fingers. "No! You can't be that old. Look how big you are!"

He turns to Kayla, and asks, "Is she really 4 years old?" Kayla pumps her head up and down.

"How old are you?" he asks her. Kayla shows him three fingers.

By now, Kaitlyn is sitting on Santa's lap and Kayla follows. They've forgotten about their Bubby, Jackie Jennings, and Papi, Jack, who look on in shock.

"This guy is good," says Jackie Jennings of Brighton Heights. "We haven't had a picture of the two of them with Santa since they had binkies in their mouths. They've been too scared."

Santa doesn't rush the girls. He never rushes any of the children. He patiently chats with the duo, asking them if they are brushing their teeth, listening and helping at home and giving mom and dad and grandma and grandpa lots of kisses. The girls, like all the other children, nod vigorously.

He asks what they want for Christmas, but as he does with each child, he doesn't make any promises.

"It all depends on what fits in the sleigh," he tells them.

Santa says he loves to visit with the children and those with special needs, including the ones he says are trapped in adult bodies, hold a special place with him. One recent visit from the Allegheny Valley School brought several special needs adults. Some sat in wheelchairs, some couldn't speak and others signed, but all of them were excited to see the jolly man in red.

One woman with Down's Syndrome kept laughing loudly, waving hello and staring up at Santa with a wide grin. Another scribbled a picture for him while she waited for her turn.

"See this?" Santa asks, showing off the child-like scribbles. "I'll take this home and make it part of my collection."

During a break for lunch (roast beef on rye with a little mayo and mustard, tomatoes and pickles), Santa explains he takes his responsibility very seriously.

"I have a chance to remind them to be as good as they can be. I never say be perfect. You will make mistakes, I tell them, but it's what you do with what you learn from those mistakes, that makes a difference," he says.

"There are those who play Santa, but I am Santa," he says, making a slightly skeptical visitor wonder if he's seen "Miracle on 34th Street" once too many times.

He takes out his wallet and pulls out his Bank One Visa card. Sure enough, the name on the card reads Santa Claus.

How'd you convince the credit card company, Santa?

"They know who I am," he says with a smile.

Oh, sure, Santa has an alter ego. He has to. Superman has Clark Kent. Batman, Bruce Wayne.

Santa has Bob Gump, a Presbyterian lay minister with a degree in psychology and a landscaping company in Colorado, where he lives with his wife of 30 years.

But he won't give away his age. He only says, "when you work with children and elves, it keeps you young."

Still not sure?

Then listen to 8-year-old Zachary Coole, who trekked with his parents from Martins Ferry, Ohio, to visit the Claus man. Zachary was wavering last year until he met Santa at the mall.

"The beard, the hair, it's real," Zachary said. "Oh yeah, he's real!"