December 23, 2007
Believing in Santa One More Year
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.
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Comments
We told our son that the Santas at the mall, the US Post Office, his parents and all the adults were “helpers” because there were so many children that needed food, a roof over their heads, safety and presents that it was becoming an extremely hard job for just him. I added that we were all sworn to secrecy.
Posted by: Cheryl on December 23, 2007 3:15 PM
Posted by: ralph on December 24, 2007 12:16 PM
Comments are now closed for this post. But there are a few other entries which might provoke an opinion or two.
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