I can see the doubt forming in their eyes.
“But how does Santa get into our house if the fireplace doesn’t open?” (Our fireplace has a permanent glass front. The thought of Santa trapped in there with his face smooshed up against the glass is actually kind of hilarious.)
“Bobby at school thinks that his parents just buy him all of the presents. That’s sad that he doesn’t believe. Right Mommy?” (Shut your face, Bobby!)
My older two kids have been teetering on the edge of belief the last year, but that belief is most likely coming to an end sooner than I’d like.
This is probably the last magical Christmas that they’ll have and I find myself crushed.
The funny thing is that I have never been the mom who gets emotional about milestones. When my kids were done with bottles, I threw them out giddily, ready for the next chapter. When it was time to transition from a crib to a big kid bed, I couldn’t contain my excitement. Preschool? Get on your merry way, kids. Elementary school? Happy as a lark.
It’s not that I am not sappy or emotional, but I’m usually more excited about the next chapter than I am sad about the last one.
But this? The end of Christmas magic? Not believing in Santa anymore? It’s killing me.
It’s not really about the large jolly man in the red suit. The thought is actually kind of weird that my kids believe in some fictional character that breaks into homes and magically delivers handmade presents made by little people.
But it just seems like the end of childhood. The end of their sweet innocence.
(It also happens to coincide with the end of Melissa & Doug presents this year. Even the 5 year old has zero interest in those cute little handpainted wooden toys. It’s almost too much to bear. I’ll miss you, Melissa & Doug!)
I feel like once they find out about Santa that I should just go ahead and tell them the truth about everything.
“I threw away all of your lost teeth in the kitchen trash.”
“And there’s no Easter Bunny.”
“Disney princesses can suck it. Life isn’t really like that.”
“It was Amazon Prime the entire time. Sorry, kid.”
“Daddy always ate the cookies.”
I feel like the end of their belief in Santa is the beginning of mean girls, smelly armpits, bullies, and fart jokes. (Ok, who am I kidding, fart jokes are already happening.)
So, since this is likely the end of what I know as Christmas, I am going to make it as magical as I can for all of us. Not magical in the form of gifts, but in the experience. I bought an Elf on the Shelf. The creepy doll is surprisingly magical to them which makes it magical for me too.
But if you happen to see me at the toy store sobbing in front of all of the Melissa & Doug toys, you’ll know why.
Hoping you and your family enjoy a very magical Christmas…