“Besides, I know you’re Santa Claus anyways.” I froze, my heart dropped and knots wreaked havoc on my stomach as those words fell from my son’s lips. O.M.G. The holiday moment I had most feared had finally come true.
My husband and I had been discussing my son’s possible waning belief in Old St. Nick since he was rounding the corner to the age of ten. According to my husband, he already knew at that age how the stockings got stuffed and where the gifts magically appeared from. He insisted it was just a matter of time before my baby boy no longer lit up when mentioning the jolly old guy in the red suit.
So, here it was. The dreaded moment. Once those words were spoken I did what any good mommy would do. I let the crickets chirp and ignored my son’s declaration while my hubby gave me the I-told-you-so look. Besides, I had an eight-year-old daughter’s belief at stake here too. It’s like the domino effect. When one stops believing, you can bet your bottom dollar the other one is going to stop believing too once the other one tells. Believe me, I know because my older cousin
stomped on my dreams burst my bubble around the age of eight.
Of course, my husband couldn’t let well enough alone. A few days after “the incident”, he had the bright idea of asking baby boy what he exactly meant when he uttered those words. My son said that one of his friends told him there was no such thing as Santa but he knew that there just had to be. Where else did all the stuff come from on Christmas Day? Ah ha!
I was literally dancing in my seat when hubby broke the news to me. He still believed! He still believed! At least he said that he did. We were safe for another year. The sad thing is, I think I was more excited that my husband and I still get to pretend to be Santa Claus than my son actually believing in him. I guess it’s not always about the kids, is it? 😉