It’s true. 

I do.

I really don’t want to, but I might be a tiny bit relieved.

I am not sneaky…not at all.

I don’t care for dishonesty even for a magical reason.

I am always honest with my kids, unless I am making up nonsense, but that is altogether different.

Santa is special around here for many reasons.  The only Santa they have ever taken their picture with is my daddy.  They are convinced that he really is Santa…for real.  They have asked questions and gathered evidence for years now.  He has the beard.  His blue eyes twinkle just like the stories say.  His booming laugh is full of good cheer.  Santa also helped me through the worst Christmas ever.  When their baby sister died a few weeks before Christmas, it was a letter from Santa that tried to make sense of such a horrible thing that didn’t make any sense at all.  He told them that hers was the first gift of Christmas.  She knew she didn’t have long, but asked if she might just have 24 hours to know her brothers and sister.  He told them that she was so delighted with each of them and he was proud of them for making her gift so special and he was so sorry that her time was too short.  That Santa, he is a good guy.

But now, I have a third grader, a fifth grader, and a seventh grader.  I am pretty sure my seventh grader is just going along because  believing is fun.  My fifth grader has lots of questions.  He is frustrated and debating about it at school.  He keeps asking me and I hate not being straight with him.  After a long day he brought it up and I said, “Dude, what is with the existential questions?  We are all Santa, ok?”.  It bought me a little time  because I am pretty sure he went to look up that word.  My youngest is all about justice and if he felt tricked he would be heartbroken in a very big way, and I just can’t stand the thought of that.

So, I’m going to go to Pinterest and find that damn letter about how now we can all be a part of the magic of the season and offer up a prayer and hope for the best.  I do realize that I am committing a mass murder here…once Santa is dead, the Easter Bunny, Tooth Fairy, and whomever else all have numbered days.  Interestingly enough, I do indeed feel the magic in and out of every season.  It is in the warmth of the sun, the twinkle of our eyes, and the draw of that big beautiful full moon.

Here’s hoping I can help them see that too.

Wish me luck.

DZ