You might remember we dodged a bullet a few weeks ago over the Tooth Fairy. But the big question remains: does our youngest still believe in Santa?
Last week I got a voicemail from my wife: “I just thought you should know, on the way to school today your daughter announced she no longer believes in Santa Claus.” Well, I thought, it’s over and it seemed so easy. For the rest of the afternoon the weight of my bureaucratic day job seemed so light.
At dinner that night I angled for the confirmation. “So, mom told me you no longer believe in Santa.” “Let me get this straight,” she replied. YOU’RE the one who’s been eating the cookies I left for him?”
I hesitated. This was it. The power to end “it” had been handed to me and I could go either way. Time slowed to a crawl as I weighed our destiny. I could prolong her childhood dream or dash it and move her that much closer to her next life stage: teenage angst. No parental class or book could ever prepared me for this. I was on my own.
With a sigh of relief I admitted that, yes, I was the one eating her cookies all these years. “But what about those notes? she asked. “Me too,” I replied. I grabbed a piece of paper and a pencil. “See how I can change my handwriting?” I looked at her as she processed this new information.
But without giving her a chance to react her older sister chimed in: “Let’s do an experiment. This year don’t eat the cookies and let’s see what happens.” “Yeah,” my youngest said. “Let’s see what happens.”
“But I thought you told mom you didn’t believe in Santa anymore.” No, I said I didn’t believe in those store Santas anymore. They’re creepy.” I looked at my wife, her covert expression telling me I had indeed received quality intel from her.
My daughter is hanging on with dear life to that fantasy just a little bit longer. But at least we don’t have to make a last minute trip to the mall to find one of those jolly old (and creepy) store Santas.