I'm one of those parents who just loves perpetuating the fantasy of Santa Claus. All my kids' Christmas toys come from Santa, except those from relatives. We leave cookies and milk out of Santa on Christmas Eve and carrots for the reindeer. The cookies are always gone -- and milk half-drunk on Christmas morning as proof for the kids. I don't feel like I'm lying to my kids. I feel like I'm giving them a bit of magic in their lives. I want them to hear the tinkling bell in "Polar Express" that is reserved for those who believe, and I want to hear it myself. But it's getting harder. Lately both kids, 8-year-old son and 6-year-old daughter, have been asking a lot of questions.
When my daughter turned 9, she began to have doubts. Most of the kids in her class don't believe. So, on Christmas Eve of that year I entered her bedroom at midnight with a prized American Girl doll in hand.
I woke my daughter and presented the gift to her. I sat on her bedside for a little while and told her how good she was doing in school and how she deserved this American Girl doll. At the end of our conversation, I kissed her on the forehead, wished her Merry Christmas and told her to go back to sleep. She held the doll tight in her arms, pulled her covers up to her chin, and said 'Merry Christmas Santa'.
That 15 minute conversation got me another 2 years! She will be 11 this February and still firmly believes in Santa Claus despite her naysayer classmates. After all, how can you argue with the fact that Santa Claus was in her bedroom! Ha!
I know she will find out I am one of Santa Claus entrusted servants soon, but until then, Santa Claus just happens to have Daddy's eyes.