Growing Up

"Mom, are you Santa?"

This question, asked of me shortly after we finished opening gifts this year, wasn't completely unexpected.  I was aware of the talk that was going on at school, aware that my kids had heard from others that Santa wasn't real.  At first, such rumblings were met with shock:  "Mom, can you believe that there are some kids that don't believe in Santa?"  A note was written to Santa on Christmas Eve asking for proof for the friends at school that Santa is indeed real. 

In my young adult years, I had decided that I would not do the Santa Thing with my kids. For several reasons I thought it would be best to avoid Santa, mainly because I intended to make sure their attention was undividedly focused on the real meaning of Christmas.

Then I got married and had kids.  Both of us had grown up with Santa, and somehow it just got started with our kids.  Of course it is not our main emphasis of the holiday, but our kids have enjoyed the magic and wonder of it all as they eagerly anticipated what treasures would be left beneath the tree.

I think this is the first year that they started hearing some "Santa's not real" mumblings.  Third grade is about when I learned the truth, so I was expecting it was coming.  But still it was sad to see the disappointment when I truthfully answered that Christmas question. 

I am not overly sad about leaving Santa behind, but I do feel those sad twinges that my boys are growing up, and that some of that wonder, magic and eager anticipation is left behind.