The Santa Saga

*Read quickly because I'll be erasing this soon. My kid knows how to log on and access my blog. And he can read, dammit.*

Before we started a family, Derick and I discussed how we'd do holidays. Basically, all the holidays would be spent with my family since his family doesn't really care and we would not insult the intelligence of our children by introducing them to imaginary figures such as The Easter Bunny and Santa Claus. I mean, what decent parent LIES to their child?

That was before we passed St. Nicholas in the mall with our eight month old baby. That colicky, unhappy baby who lit right up seeing him sitting there all ho, ho, ho jolly and stuff.



So we figured, eh, he's little, we can do it this year.

And then we remembered my sister's kids, well, they also loved Santa so we kept it up, you know, to keep peace and harmony in the family.

And then the second child came and, well, how unfair would that be to let the oldest one enjoy Santa and not the youngest one, I mean, we are all about the fairness.




And the third one came, and although Santa's lap is quite full, we couldn't deny her either so here we are. For a family that wasn't going to do Santa, we sure have done up the Santa. And the Easter Bunny too, but that's an entirely different story.



But. The kids get older. And smarter. And they start to listen more. And then Mommy starts to panic.

So Jacob goes to a Christian school and most of the families there have chosen as we once did not to celebrate the secular themes of the holiday and instead focus on the true meaning of the season. There's a reason for the season? Really? I kid, I kid.

Anyway, these kids are starting to talk. In the past month, my son, my tiny baby son, has come home feeling so very sorry for three different boys who say they do not believe and he fears they will wake up with nothing on Christmas morning. He wants to buy them some Legos so they'll have something under the tree. Isn't that sweet?

While walking through the Wally World last week, one nasty old bitty had the loudest phone conversation about whether or not the person on the other end of the line should tell her child THERE IS NO SANTA. I bumped her a little with my cart. Did I mention I HATE listening to others talking on the phone. Go home. Talk there. Bah.

And now Target has this stupid ass commercial on all day where the dad gets upset at the mom when she unwraps her big screen tv and goes on and on incessantly about Santa not realizing there's a recession and Mom tells him that Santa knows how to shop.

Um, yeah. My kid. He gets innuendo. Who'd a thunk?

I see him standing there watching it. I see the gears moving in his head. I watch him stop what he's doing to catch again fifteen minutes later. The gears....still moving.

Why do that Target? Everytime I see it, the less I like you.

My kid. He doesn't ask any questions. I think he already knows the answers. It's sad really.

Sometimes I regret our decision to just go with it.

Then I see the delight in their faces when they see Santa every year.

And clear a path away from the fireplace.

And leave cookies and reindeer food and, for the past two years, a gift, bought with his own money because Santa needs a present too. FYI: Santa's getting a Lego Santa keychain. For the sleigh keys. Or the workshop. Whichever.

Santa will bring everything my kids have asked for this year. Even the very expensive Lego set he can't really afford. We're going to do it up this year. And we're going to enjoy every minute while we can.