The Talk

in Giggles on December 13, 2015

**WARNING**

FOR PARENT EYES ONLY

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This all started on Friday morning.  Jeff and I were spending a rare day together.  We had some time to work some things out, run some errands, and talk while all of our minions were at school.  Considering that we are two weeks outside of Christmas, we were going to take full advantage of this day…or so I thought.

Little did I know, that two hours after we left the house, I would be sitting in a corner booth at the local IHOP crying into my coffee, all because Jeff wanted to talk.

Now, before too many of you freak out, Jeff and I are fine.  He’s not leaving me.  Although, from the scene I made at breakfast, I am sure that is exactly what the other pancake eaters were imagining!  Poor Jeff!  I am most certain he was thoroughly abused at the surrounding tables for his misuse of his sweet wife so close to Christmas.  Giggle.  No, our talk was not of our impending separation, but rather the impending separation of our children from their delusions of childhood magic.  In short: He wanted to talk to them about Santa.

And that’s when a piece of my heart died.

I know.  I know.  I am ssooooo dramatic.  But, you have to understand something–I love Christmas.  I don’t just like Christmas.  I LOVE Christmas.  I love the thought of God sending His Son as a BABY.  It breaks my heart to think about that baby growing up and dying for me, but to think of Mary hugging and kissing God...how incredibly awesome is that?!  I love the trees.  I love the lights.  I love the music.  In fact, I am one of the nutters who starts listening to Christmas music right after Halloween.  And yes, I love Santa.  I opened a term paper my last semester in college, with an account of Saint Nicholas.  I got an A.

One of the coolest and most FUN parts of parenthood is the magic associated with Santa.  As of Friday, I was not ready to let that go.  Of course I know that my children know; they must know.  But we do not speak of the Secret of Santa.  Ever.

Until last night.

We sat all of the kids down in the living room.  They thought they were in trouble.  I sat on the floor; immediately my Charley-Girl came to me.  She seems to know when I need to squeeze her.  Ethan calls her my “stress dog.”  I already had tears in my eyes.  Clearly this was something Jeff was going to have to tackle solo, as I was going to be of absolutely zero-assistance.

He asked the kids, “Where does Santa live?”

The two older ones instantly knew where the conversation was headed.  The Divine Miss Em, giggled and announced, “Fifth grade.  I’ve known since fifth grade.”

My heart broke off another piece.  I really don’t like other people’s children.

Ethan mumbled something about fourth grade, and he got up to get me a box of tissues.  Charley was climbing up the front of me.  Elliott was sitting on the couch.  He was the one hold-out.  My baby.  My sixth grader.  He told his father that Santa lived at the North Pole with all of the elves.

My heart smiled.

Jeff looked shocked.  He asked him again, “Yes, but where does Santa really live?”  Elliott was looking at me.  I swear I was trying to keep it together–I was just failing in an epic fashion.  Charley was in my lap (all 65 pounds of her).  Elliott finally gave up the ghost, and said it did not matter if Santa was a physical person or not.  What mattered was the magic.  However the magic was created, was all that mattered.

Bingo!

Jeff looked relieved.  The other two wanted to know if they were still getting presents.  I was a sobbing mess, with a headache who just wanted to go to bed.  Ethan was trying to hug me, but Charley was proving to be a bit of a challenge in that respect.  He told me that he’d hung on to Santa for as long as he because of me.  Emma seconded that.  We asked them if, when they grow up and have kiddos of their own, would they introduce Santa to their own children.  All three of them enthusiastically said yes.  Sweet kids.

Santa is a huge part of Christmas.  I know my children are growing up, and I am thrilled in almost every aspect to watch that process.  But on Christmas morning, there should always be one gift from Santa…Elliott still wants to set out milk and cookies just in case.  I’m good with that.  Better safe than sorry.

Here’s hoping your day is filled with magic!

-Dallas

One thought on “The Talk

  • What a precious story! And a childhood belief in Santa does not diminish the reason for Christmas, the birth of our Lord. Being an adult is a trial, let a child have a few fantasies until the realities take over. God bless you all!

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