We had breakfast with Santa last week.
My son is two and half.
He whispered to Santa that he went poo poo on the potty.
Why? Because I think he believes in Santa. And I think he believes that is very important information for Santa to know. He believes that Santa will be proud of him.
Let’s flash back to a decade or so ago-
* insert mental picture of a flashback effect, like warpy, fuzziness around the edges of your screen- or just have Wayne and Garth float across wiggling their fingers saying “du du du du du … du du du du du” *
I’m kicking back on a sofa with a spiked egg nog in my hand. I’m looking all mid twenties- sexy, and I proclaim to the party goer next to me that I am always going to tell my children the truth. “That’s if I have kids. But if I do, I will respect their intelligence, and I will raise them to be honest people with the highest regard for truth. Santa is a lie, and it just sets kids up for heartbreak in the future. Kids can easily understand the spirit of Christmas and giving, without conjuring up a big story about a fat guy with presents.”
Now let’s come back to the present, and my not-quite- as- sexy, but less of an idiot self.
I am presently crafting a lie to top all lies.
And I’m so f*cking excited!
Now, he’s still very young- so Santa may still be a bit abstract. But that’s what makes this year the most important year ever. This year is the year we build the foundation. This is the year he believes pretty much anything we tell him.
We are creating the foundation for many more years of lies to come.
It’s the best.
I never realized what an excellent liar I could be!
I’m making Christmas, people! My husband and I are sculpting it, crafting it, creating the magic.
He’s already had breakfast with the big guy himself.
His Dad has told him about the reindeer, and chimney, and elves, and presents… and my son looks mesmerized every time he tells the story.
I’m putting freaking cookies out for Santa. And I’m sure as hell not gonna forget a little carrot for Rudolph who works so hard.
All the gifts from Santa get special wrapping paper.
Santa sent my son a special video message from The Portable North Pole.
And I may or may not even visit iCaughtSanta.com, and get a picture of Santa sneaking into our house to put presents under the tree.
Sure, I know that someday he may find out that not everything we’ve told him is true. And he may be heartbroken. But someday he’s also gonna find out that real toothpaste doesn’t taste like bubble gum, that people sometimes hurt one another on purpose, and that health insurance companies are the devil.
But for now… I want there to be magic.
Come on over Santa, and Tooth Fairy, I got your wings right here.
Because, although I’ve always been a firm believer in the truth, I believe even more in the innocence and wonder of childhood.
It’s a whole new ball game now.
Christmas just got fucking awesome.