Telling her he won’t come if she’s naughty –
Telling her he’ll only bring her Little Mermaid Castle if she takes her naps and is nice to her brother –
Having her leave cookies and sugar for him and his sleigh-pulling friends (and then leaving a half-eaten cookie for her to see)
Causing her to love him so much that she runs up to the mall Santa without hesitation (even though I think he’s pretty skeevy)
Telling her he came while we were all sleeping (and her responding – “He was very quiet huh? He tiptoed huh?” and then demonstrating to me just how he tiptoed – standing on her toes, bending her knees and back and putting her hands pointed down in the bunny hop position – I mean come on – how adorable is that)
I know it’s something a lot of parents tell their children – Andrew and I both believed and I hear he got pretty upset when he found out the truth – but there’s something about being the one who encourages the belief… I don’t know – I just feel guilty.
Some fairy tale part of me still wants to believe – like maybe after we put out all the presents and go to sleep they’ll be one extra that no one bought or knows about – (and hopefully it won’t be a stinky candle or fruit cake).
I know it’s all about tradition and I know the fun of believing – I just dread the day when they find out the truth. I’m sure it will be a time they will never forget – many of us probably remember when/where/how we found out – I guess that’s all a part of the tradition too – I guess I just want our kids to just figure it out on their own because Andrew and I are such terrible liars – I just want them to understand the spirit of it all and that it wasn’t meant to hurt them. Santa or not – there’s a beauty in believing.
Are You Zhazha? 
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