I’ve Got to KIll Santa

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

Advertisements

About attraversiamodarmaz

Midwestern girl who loves big city shopping (note - do not love high heels of any kind) * hate to say that first because I fancy myself a yoga chic too who is into feng shui and a minimalist life but it's just not all true!* I do forget to recycle* LOVE reading and music and most things crafty (the idea of them - very fickle and creative urges come and go faster than light or sound)* Grand chef and baker in my own mind and kitchen - love to mix and match recipes for a glorious new concoction* Gardening would be very successful - I have a flair but short attention span can cause casualties* True bliss is my home filled with three beautiful children (four on the weekends - an amazing Goddaughter)* did forget to feed the beautiful children lunch once when they were too small to remind me* can't find socks for all on some crazy mornings* I'm a learner who just can't help it...a writer in my head, and a college instructor for a half dozen classes a year* can't help my right brain optimism* been a foster mom* am a very grateful mom of adopted children* worst life moment: leaving the E.R. with an empty baby carrier* this is me...pretty much
This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to I’ve Got to KIll Santa

  1. duffolks says:

    You are such an awesome mama… ❤

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s