creationship

...to tell the truth.

"Mom?" Syd asks slowly from the kitchen.
"Ya?" I call over my shoulder, my back to her while I type away on my computer.
"Do you believe in Santa?"
tap. tap. silence.

Now let me preface this next part by saying that I carry around an inordinate amount of guilt over the fact that my 8 year old still believes in Santa. Every year I vacillate between a love of the magic of Santa's mysterious arrival and guilt over the big, fat lie that is Santa Clause. Over the last few years, as I've tried to slowly de-emphasize the jolly old man, he has gotten increasingly less credit around our house by being the one to give Sydney the less cool gifts (I admit, I like the credit for the cool stuff). Yet, her belief holds firm. Really firm. She loves the magic...and I don't blame her...

"Hummm... What makes you ask me that?" (I really don't want to just come out and say NO)
"Well, Rebecca said that her mom and dad 'do the Santa thing' (air quotes and all) and that they are the ones who come and do Santa's job. I don't get it."
"Hummmm...." (Quick and brilliant response, I know.) "Well, do you believe in Santa?"
"Ya!!! I do! But people keep telling me that Santa isn't real."

Oh crap!!! What I've feared is now before me and I'm going to have to say Well, actually, my dear sweet girl, in whom I have tried to instill honesty and truthfulness, I have to tell you...I've been lying to you since you were born. How do you feel about that? Should I take you to a therapist now or just start setting aside money for later?

"Well, honey. Humm...let's see. Ummm. Hum. Well. Ok." (alright, alright, I didn't really do all that hum-hawing, but I sure felt like it. I just sat there looking at her, wondering what to say).
"Well, have you ever heard about how Santa Clause started?"
"No."

Please try to picture her enormous, chocolatey brown eyes, wide with wonder and concern over the fate of Santa. This was no small discussion.

"St. Nicholas was a man who lived a long, long time ago and he loved Jesus. He inherited a lot of money from his father and, instead of living like a rich man, he chose to live like a poor man and give his money to those in need. But he did it in secret so that no one would praise him for doing that."

And, since that's all I could remember, I did what any 20th century mom would do. I said...

"Should we google a little more?"
"Sure!"

So that's what we did. We googled St. Nick and learned all about his sacrificial deeds and the legends that surround him and how, over the years, his name changed and the legends continued and, there ya have it! Santa Clause. Done. Whew...I breathed a sigh of relief. But, of course...

Contemplative daughter. Contemplative moment. We're not done yet.

"Mom?"
"Ya?"
"So...who's been putting the presents under the tree?"
Busted.
"Well...how do you imagine that the presents have been getting there?"

Oh man...I am so bummed about bursting her bubble, but I'm relieved that she is figuring it out, but I feel sad that the magic is about to be over, but I want her to have a deeper understanding of Christmas, but I want her to stay a little girl, but I don't want her to get made fun of on the playground for believing in Santa, but...but...but...and on and on my mommy-madness goes....

"I don't know. I mean...I think Santa does it, but how can he if he's been dead for so long?"

Dang...she knows the answer to this. No doubt about it. Good man lives. Good man dies. Good man isn't still alive. Good, dead man can't be bringing her presents. She really wants to believe in this.

"Well, Syd. The whole story of St. Nick started with a kind man loving his neighbors so much that he wanted to give them good gifts and he wanted to do it in secret. He wanted to help children and he did that in secret, too. I wonder if that was pretty fun for him...to give secret gifts to people he loved. Do you think that some other folks might love their little girls and boys so much that they might want to give secret gifts to them to make their eyes light up with excitement and make them feel so special?"

"Mooooooommmmmm" she says with a too-old voice that says "be serious!"
"Whaaaaaaaattttt?" I mirror back that 16-yr-old sass.

silence. she just looks at me.

"So what do you think?" I ask.
Big shrug.
"Do you think it's good...bad...weird...?"
"All of the above."
"Ya...I agree."

She leans into me and gives me a hug but leaves her head buried in my shoulder. I can't help imagine her feelings; the death of a beloved fantasy; the passing of innocence...magic disappearing like a morning mist.

"What do you think?" I ask again after a while.
She just shrugs.

"Do you think it'd be ok to pretend there is magic on Christmas morning?" I ask.

She nods her head emphatically....and then sits there thinking.

"Ya," she says...."And maybe we can pretend this conversation never happened."

I bust out laughing. "Deal! Let's make popcorn."

Last week, Syd's school hosted their second annual Walk-a-thon. It was a great success and, remarkably, pretty fun. (You know every school event isn't fun, right?!) Sydney actually raised the most money in her CLASS and won a free lunch from Firehouse Subs (which, just so happens to be our friend and neighbor's restaurant, so Syd was WAYYY excited about that!) that will be delivered to school just for her! Pretty big deal.

Well, here are a few pics of the event...