Some content may not be suitable for young children! And, I also use the word turd in the following story….
The other day, Nate point blank asked Brian and I if Santa was real. Really, I was amazed it had taken this long. We put him off with this statement “Well Nate, we believe in Santa.” That lasted for a few short hours, and then at bedtime when I was tucking him in, he asked me again for reals. And I knew the moment had come, that my youngest child really wanted the truth. So, I told him. All the while sobbing on the inside. He was quiet for a second and then he asked this question, “So, did you and Dad give me the white tuxedo last Christmas?” I really wanted to lie and say “Heck no honey – that was totally Santa!” But I told him the truth. He got really still and then declared “I don’t want anything for Christmas this year!” He looked like he had been punched in the stomach. by. me. His mom, the one who is supposed to care for him, and be truthful with him, and protect him. I felt like a turd! A big steaming pile of cow splat! I was left holding the bag (again*). The bag that contained the broken truth, the shards of the smoke and mirrors that just a few minutes ago had been intact, and the sharp pointed thorns of my son’s anger and disillusionment. I tried to pacify him by saying that even though Santa is not real we still believe entirely in the spirit of Santa Claus.
But amazingly the next morning he woke up kind of puffed up and proud. He was now one of the big guys. He was in on the secret. And get this……He started making suggestions about how we should hide the presents, and all the best tricks Santa would use……in other words he wants to help continue the magic….and boy am I grateful that I didn’t fatally kill the magic.
*I’m holding this bag too – the one that contains 95% of the birds and bees conversations!