I don't remember when I stopped believing in Santa Claus. It wasn't a big moment for me. It wasn't like I saw my mother filling stocking for my brothers and me and all of my reality exploded or anything. It was just that one year I did and the next year I didn't.
As a teenager, it didn't really matter all that much. In my 20's, it didn't really matter all that much. It didn't start to matter until my son started approaching Christmas with a twinkle in eye and a dream that Santa would pay him a visit. The magic that sparkled around him was contagious. I wanted a piece of it.
My son is 10 years old now and I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. A lot of his friends at school don't believe anymore. I'm certain that someday soon he won't either. It really felt like last year was going to be it, but no. The magic is still there for him.
My husband and I have done everything we can to keep that going.
We're not concerned about the dishonesty of it.
We're not worried about others making fun or teasing him for keeping faith in baby stuff. They don't.
We're worried about that moment when the illusion goes away and the reality of adulthood sets in. He's only 10. He has a lifetime of reality waiting for him. He needs more time to dream and wish and wonder.
He wrote a letter to Santa this year saying that his big Christmas wish was to see a real reindeer from the North Pole. I saw an ad in the paper that a nursery by our house brought in reindeer for the season. My kids and I decided to go see them. We had it scheduled several times throughout the month, but school meetings, and dinner plans, and housework and homework always seemed to take precedence.
We finally made it down there yesterday, Little Christmas Eve. The nursery had a sleigh set up next to the reindeer. My son immediately jumped into it, grabbed the reins and started HO-HO-HO-ing as he shook the bells.
I took his picture to help me remember the moment and sent it skyward with my Christmas wish.
I hope he's happy.
I hope he gets everything he needs, not just everything he wants.
I hope he's always excited.
I hope his wishes big.
I hope his world is filled with wonder and beauty and majesty and amazement.
I hope the magic stays with him always the way it has this year.
I hope it's not the end.
Monday, December 24, 2012
Friday, December 14, 2012
Let's Do 52 ~ Week 50 {The Eyes Have It}
I have two go-to girlies when it comes to taking pics. This is one of them.
She was rushing out the door and I said,
"Okay, stop. Right there. Now, right here."
And she said,
"What am I doing?"
And I said,
"The eyes have it."
And she said
and they do....just like always.
She was rushing out the door and I said,
"Okay, stop. Right there. Now, right here."
And she said,
"What am I doing?"
And I said,
"The eyes have it."
And she said
and they do....just like always.
Friday, December 7, 2012
Darn That Elf!
I'm very conflicted today.
And not in that funny, Facebook-y,
It's Christmas time so I want to eat fudge, but fudge makes my jeans split down the side (true story...you weren't in my kitchen last night, but trust me), but it's Christmas so I want to eat fudge kind of way.
I'm more conflicted in the
47 minutes after I finished wrapping presents and putting them under the tree, a scampy elf seized one, tore open the paper, and then hid it under Daddy's chair kind of way.
Followed closely by the
Are you !@#$ kidding me!? way,
The
How did you even know which one was for you since none of the presents even have tags on them yet? way.
And the
No! You have to listen! That other elf told me to do it! They're the one! It's not my fault! It's not my fault! way.
So now, I'm left vacillating between three options:
1. Return the offending, opened gift from whence it came and not let the scamp have it on Christmas.
2. Offer said elf the opportunity to prove themselves worthy of Santa's trust and put the gift back under the tree Christmas morning.
3. Eat more fudge and wonder when I last used the words vacillating and whence....because I can't believe it was recently. Although, I've always felt I lived a past life in Victorian England.
Any help or advice you can offer would be greatly appreciated in that
You've always been my favorite and I'll love you until the end of time and buy you anything you want and always make your favorite foods and have your back and stand by your side and be your best friend for ever and ever kind of way.
And not in that funny, Facebook-y,
It's Christmas time so I want to eat fudge, but fudge makes my jeans split down the side (true story...you weren't in my kitchen last night, but trust me), but it's Christmas so I want to eat fudge kind of way.
I'm more conflicted in the
47 minutes after I finished wrapping presents and putting them under the tree, a scampy elf seized one, tore open the paper, and then hid it under Daddy's chair kind of way.
Followed closely by the
Are you !@#$ kidding me!? way,
The
How did you even know which one was for you since none of the presents even have tags on them yet? way.
And the
No! You have to listen! That other elf told me to do it! They're the one! It's not my fault! It's not my fault! way.
So now, I'm left vacillating between three options:
1. Return the offending, opened gift from whence it came and not let the scamp have it on Christmas.
2. Offer said elf the opportunity to prove themselves worthy of Santa's trust and put the gift back under the tree Christmas morning.
3. Eat more fudge and wonder when I last used the words vacillating and whence....because I can't believe it was recently. Although, I've always felt I lived a past life in Victorian England.
Any help or advice you can offer would be greatly appreciated in that
You've always been my favorite and I'll love you until the end of time and buy you anything you want and always make your favorite foods and have your back and stand by your side and be your best friend for ever and ever kind of way.
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