“Mom, kids at school are saying there is no Santa and it’s actually your parents who give you gifts-is that true?”
My heart stung with that sharp heat—unlike a roller coaster—more like “Ahhhh Maaaan!”
I don’t want to lie to her. But I am not ready to be the bearer of bad news. I chose my words carefully.
“Well honey, what do you believe?”
“I told them they were wrong because there is no way my parents could eat as many cookies as I leave out.”
And there it was. She still believes, but not for long.
I didn’t think I would be sad about this, but I totally am. I am going to miss dazzling my daughter with the Christmas Spirit that we don her with each and every year.
I will miss separating gifts and hiding them in the attic. I will miss buying the different Christmas paper (Santa has special wrapping paper—the kind that sparkles and costs $7 a roll). I will miss writing in different handwriting—Calligraphy or script—because after all, he is so magical that his penmanship must match. I will miss the awe in her eyes as she runs into the living room to see that Santa has left her stocking on the couch, overflowing with trinkets like fart-sounding gels, nail polish and gum. I’m even going to miss waiting until she falls asleep so that we can begin to transform our living room into a place where Santa surely had fun.
Most of this staging happened 10 minutes before we left to see the family on Christmas Eve each year. We would put her in the car and then say we forgot something and run back into the house. I always wondered if she would ever catch on that every single year, both of us would forget something so important that we would both have to leave her for a few minutes. While inside, we would quickly rearrange the living room so that when we returned home at 1 or 2 am, if she was awake, she could tell he had been here.
I will miss leaving crumbs from the cookies and a ring of milk on the table, throwing away the reindeer food and covering up the mess in the garbage can as to ensure no evidence was left behind. I will miss writing a thank-you note to her, and answering any questions she had left me…I mean Santa.
So this year, I will make it her best ever. If I have to climb on the rooftop or jingle some bells outside her room, so be it. For I know, this is it. Our last Christmas with a child who believes in Santa Claus.
I shouldn’t end on this. It’s too sad.
Although I think I could, I am not crying. I am actually thankful and grateful that the true meaning of Christmas will not be left behind just because she won’t believe in Santa. I am merely going to miss the things we do for the little ones who believe.
We will still bake cookies and go shopping. We will still donate toys and clothes to those less fortunate than us. We will still drive around town to admire the light displays. And most of all, we will thank the Universe that we have this day to celebrate and be warm and full with an abundance of love and the glory of this thing called life.
Merry Christmas Everyone!
