“No.” I answered… after all, I’m not overweight, I have an aversion to reindeer, and I really don’t look good in red. “Why do you ask?”“Well,” she said, “Nichol says that our parents are Santa. Is Santa real?”
Wow, I don’t want to outright lie to her so I say, “Santa is as real as you believe him to be. I believe in Santa.”“You do?” she asks, all wide eyed. It’s true, I believe in Santa as the ideal of charity that he is meant to represent. That’s hard to explain to a 9-year-old, so I just left my comment as it was.
Then, Saturday night came, and with it, our family party. It’s been a tradition at this party, since I was a little kid, to have Santa show up. My family even owns a Santa suit and beard. This year we got a friend of mine to play Santa, and my daughter saw right through the beard and knew who he was. He has a distinctive voice.
So, while Santa was handing out presents, my daughter walked over to me, “Dad?” she says, “Is that Boyd?”“What makes you think that?” I asked… a little horrified.
“Because, that’s Boyd.” She says.
You can kind of see her wheels turning, can't you.
I’m afraid that this is the last year for us to be able to pull off the Santa thing with our youngest, and that kind of makes me sad. There is far too little magic in this world. The sense of wonder is being replaced by Apps and I’m afraid that there is no app for wonder.If you have little ones, cherish the wonder that flashes in their eyes when everything is new to them. That time is such a short one.