jewey posted: " Bless her innocent heart, she still believes in Santa. In spite and despite some of her classmates telling her The Old Man doesn't exist. I sensed a chip in her belief. A seed of doubt planted by an external world. "Is it true that Santa isn't real?"" the pauses between
Bless her innocent heart, she still believes in Santa. In spite and despite some of her classmates telling her The Old Man doesn't exist. I sensed a chip in her belief. A seed of doubt planted by an external world.
"Is it true that Santa isn't real?" she asked one day after school.
"Baby, you know your truth," I told her. "What do you think?"
"I think Santa is real," she said. "Maybe they were just saying that because they're muslims and they don't celebrate Christmas."
"Well, there you go," I said, somewhat relieved that the conversation somehow sorted itself out.
I'm not gonna lie. Dancing around the truth about Santa Claus is not the most comfortable feeling in the world as I always strive for parental transparency but in this case, I want to make a special consideration. She no longer believes in the Easter bunny and it won't be long before she stops believing in Santa Claus as well.
I just want to hold on to her being a child just a little bit longer.
Santa got her one of the 10,000 things on her list this year (she wanted to give him a lot of options): a Cinnamoroll backpack. Exactly the one she wanted. The same one she saw on Amazon. She was quite happy about that.
I was happy for her, too.
Also, I was happy for me when she gave me a present she proudly made herself: a box filled with a yarn bracelet with a letter "J" she hot-glued into shape which she said took her several tries. Underneath the Shopkins items in the box was the most beautiful card that read:
Dear Mama, merry christmas. I love you. Thank you for being my Mama.
Because I always thank her for choosing me to be her mama.
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