Sam's family is all about parties at holidays. Both his parents come from large families, and the brothers and sisters get together at Christmas for a catch-up. Of course, their kids come, and the grandkids. We're talking 50 people minimum at these gigs. Each side of the family has one. His mom's side has an in with Santa, who makes an appearance to distribute gifts to the kids. This is always way too much fun.
There's the whole fitting of the suit thing to laugh about, and the attachment of the beard (or detachment, as it is), and the love/hate thing that kids have with him. Love the gifts, hate the guy in the red suit. Okay, it might be more pure fear than hate. We've all seen it.
I am determined to completely blow the whole Santa thing over this party. Every single year. Last year I made shirts for each of my kids, and Santa generously handed them out. (Parents provide the gifts.) Luke was kind of weirded out. "Mom," he said. "Santa's elves make shirts just like yours." Oops. Of course, everyone knows that Santa gives gifts at Christmas, and the elves shop elsewhere (like The Rocking Pony, duh) for before-Christmas gifts. They just don't have the time to make everything, what with the holiday rush and all. (Got out of that one!)
This year, Luke was questioning things. "Mom, why do the teens always say 'who will play Santa this year?'" And my mind started working in overtime, buzzing with words, trying to make them form something that would make sense to a ten year old boy without lying. (We encourage belief here, but we do not lie about things.) And as I'm frantically coming up with nothing, Luke said, "I think it's because the teens want me to think that there is no Santa. But the joke is on them because there *is* a Santa."
Yep, Luke, that's it exactly.
2 comments:
He's at that age, huh? They can be told nine ways to Sunday by older kids, but they refuse to give up the belief.
I dropped the broadest hints imaginable for Mae. Same present wrapping, all kinds of evasive answers, while nudging her toward the truth. She finally gave up and said Santa wasn't real.
Meanwhile, she was hedging her bets. She'd written Santa a letter. Evidently someone at our post office got paid to write back to kids who wrote to Santa, because she got a postcard from him. Gah! She wigged. It was another two years ...
Good for him for still believing! I'm a little shocked that at 10 he does. Sam (who is 7) already knows the secret about Santa.
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