Day 22 - Dear Santa, thanks for the memories...
The Girl walked into the kitchen last night and declared "You know I've outgrown Santa right?" I wasn't exactly surprised since she *is* 10 years old, but I thought that our little ruse might be salvagable. I asked her how exactly she thought she had outgrown Santa. As she started explaining it to me, I started thinking about all of the little things we'd done over the years to keep the belief going. It hit me that we wouldn't need to leave a plate of cookies out tonight. That The Man and I wouldn't need to nibble the cookies and drink the milk at midnight. We wouldn't have to eat the reindeer's carrots leaving only the nibs as 'proof'. I felt the tears welling up in my eyes and before I knew it she was saying "Oh, Mama! It's okay...we can still pretend" She started rubbing my back and tried to comfort me (the mama in this situation). I know it seems ridiculous,with all of the problems in the world that we face, but the thought that we'd just lost this little bit of magic in our family was bumming me out. She wanted to continue talking about it and when we sat down on the couch to tconitnue on, I could see that all of her "I'm ready for the truth" had melted away and she laid her head in my lap. And then she cried. And cried. She said all of the things I had dreaded about mourning the magic that can never come back. About loving the mystery of Santa. About staying up all night and running downstairs to see sneaky thing Santa had done each year. She told me she didn't want to not believe and that she wanted to go back to how things were before. How she wanted a 'forget ray' to undo the moment that realized that Santa isn't real. I remembered while I was comforting her that I had read this great letter a few weeks ago, and tried to convey the gist of it to her. Feeling tongue tied, we ultimately just read it together. And she cried. This girl of mine has a big old heart and it's hard to watch her sort through feeling disillusioned. While we were talking, I told telling her about all of the excitement we get to feel on the other side of knowing. How exciting it is to hold this really, really big special secret with such a large group of people that you don't even know. That you get to see the sparkle in the eyes of younger children who are so excited about Santa's visit. That as a secret holder you are part of a larger kind of giving. You know what really turned the tide for her? When she realized that her brother, the same one that she bickers with, that can be a booger of an older brother, that has been known to say hurtful things (as all older brothers are known to do) had kept this secret for her. That in all of the heated arguments and words thrown sideways between them he had never spilled the beans. That's when I told her that not only had he kept it a secret but that all of those emails back and forth with Santa years ago had been with him. That he went and secured a Santa-sounding gmail account all on his own and started emailing her and responding to her (and her friends) kindly, and generously. I could see that it was starting to seep in that it can be great fun to be magical secret holder. It was such a long, lovely, poignant conversation during which I realized that we've been actively playing Santa for over a decade and hearing all about it from her perspective was so awesomely heart-warming. I know it seems sappy, but there is an intangible holiday magic that I embrace and try and help weave through our family at this time of year. While I was tucking her in (at midnight) she whispered to me "Mama, there's still a part of me that believes". Indeed little girl, indeed.
