So, the boys were in bed, and Monkey Girl was reading her book.
Real Man and I were chatting about our day and Monkey Girl puts down her book and says:
“Is Santa really the parents?”
Real Man and I freeze and look at each other with deer-in-the-headlights eyes.
Me: “Well, what do you think?”
Monkey Girl: “Well, I want to believe, but Jamie said that she doesn’t believe in Santa and Nick said that he came downstairs on Christmas Eve and found his parents wrapping gifts under the tree, and in the morning the gifts they were wrapping were the gifts from Santa.”
Me: “Oh.”
Monkey Girl: “So, is Santa really the parents?”
Me: “Well, what do you believe?” (I’m quick, right? Same response to the same question…not a giveaway at all.)
Monkey Girl: “Well, I kinda believe in Santa. I want to believe in Santa. But, I kinda think it might be the parents.”
Me: “Oh.” (Again, so impressive with the responses.)
Monkey Girl: “So…is Santa the parents?”
Real Man and I looked at each other and realized that she knows. She doesn’t want to know, but she knows.
At this point, it becomes an issue of lying to a child who already knows the truth.
Me: (with tears in my eyes) “Yes…Santa is the parents.”
The tears began and Real Man and I snuggled her up between us on our bed and held her and stroked her hair and talked to her for about thirty minutes.
We talked about the magic of Christmas and the spirit of Christmas.
We talked about how important it is to not ruin the magic of Santa for her brothers or her cousins or her friends. She swore that she wouldn’t, and we 100% believe her. A kinder child with a bigger heart you have never met.
She asked where her American Girl doll came from that Santa dropped off at my parents house. I looked at her and raised my eyebrows and she said, “Ah…Gramma and Grampa.” Then she smiled.
My heart broke tonight.
It will break two more times over the next five or six years.
I hold onto the fact that if there is ever a child who embodies the spirit of Christmas, it is Monkey Girl. Santa or no, this is a child who will continue to believe in magic and will continue to live in a world of wonder. She will continue to make Santa alive for her little brothers because that is just who she is. And I think that is what makes me the saddest. I want him to be real for her. I want that guy to barge through my front door right now and say “What the heck? What are you doing telling this girl that I’m not real? Pinch me! I’m here!”
But, that’s not going to happen, and she was going to find out eventually. Better that she finds out in the loving arms of her parents than on the playground.
And, I have to say, the truth of that conviction was brought home by the end of the conversation.
We talked and talked and talked and at the end of it all, she said to us,
“Thank you for not lying to me.”
She’s asleep now and fell asleep happy and secure in the love of her parents.
Me?
I may cry myself to sleep tonight.
