A few days ago big brother asked, “Is there really only one Santa?”
Instead of following the advice of my friend and asking, “What do YOU think?,” I cheerily called out, “NOPE!”
My husband glared at me from across the room. And my son gave me the worse look ever, channeling: WRONG ANSWER!
Hubby crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall to see how this was going to go down. And little brother walked into the room in time to hear me chirp, “Well, you see, Santa has LOTS of helpers! He has to be so many places at once that he has lots of Santas who help him. And it never really matters if you’re talking to the REAL SANTA. Because his helpers all tell him what you said.”
They looked at me skeptically, but carried on with their day. #RockStarDad muttered something under his breath about the problem with telling children lies.
Dude, it’s Christmas, this is totally for a good cause: MAGIC!
I didn’t disown my parents for feeding me this crap when I was 8 and my cousin spilled the beans. I have fond memories of the magic. Like the time my dad wrote me a letter FROM SANTA. He crafted the entire thing by cutting out letters from the newspaper to disguise his handwriting. That’s some dedication. That’s some love. His Santa game was strong.
The Rudolph debacle
My youngest LOVES him some Rudolph. He’s even figured out how to play the song on the piano. Which means he bangs out the rhythm correctly on random keys. And since there are pretty much 8 white keys to choose from, he occasionally hits the RIGHT NOTE at the RIGHT TIME. Pure genius I tell ya. Probability is his friend.
So I should have been prepared when he cornered me the other day and asked, “Why don’t all reindeer have red noses?”
“Son,” I replied while absentmindedly clearing the dishwasher, “NO reindeer have red noses.”
He gasped. “But RUDOLPH! Has a RED NOSE! He has to guide SANTA’S SLEIGH with it!”
Oops, how am I going to get out of this one? Breathing stopped. Chores stopped. Time stopped.
My ninja mom-brain luckily went into warp speed: “That’s a great point! Rudolph is MAGIC! Regular reindeer have brown noses. Remember the ones we just saw in Frozen 2? All brown noses. But Rudolph is magic and Santa is magic! So yes, you’re right, Rudolph does indeed have a red nose.”
He seemed satisfied. Praise the Lord for Disney.
The Santa list
We went to see the mall Santa.
You know the gig where you wait in line for 7 hours and pay $100 for that awkward-family-photos-picture? We were strategic and visited Santa BEFORE Thanksgiving. Which meant NO LINE! Also, I refused to shell out any money so my boys talked to Santa for an hour while the picture lady patted her foot and tried to figure out if I was just a cheap ass or actually deserving of pity and free candy canes because we’re homeless.
When we left, the boys walked away with a Pinteresty-print out where they could list all their Christmasy desires. But no candy canes.
Here’s what my oldest wrote on his:
1. Tablet.
Hm, I’m anti-TV, so this will be interesting.
2. Hamster.
Uh, he does need a new HAMPER… Is he old enough to appreciate the joke?
3. Puppy.
Hell no! I Marie Kondo-ed the family dog a year ago. Not happenin’.
He was quite excited to share his list with me. I complimented him on his stellar handwriting. That didn’t satisfy him. He wanted to engage in a conversation with me about these items. He wanted acknowledgement. He wanted approval.
I nodded “hm” about the tablet. Because maybe he’s old enough for one with some sort of contract where he agrees to play outside for 6 hours before he can use it for 20 minutes. I laughed about the hamster. And then I got down to business.
Me: “We’re not getting a puppy.”
Him: “But I already told Santa to bring it.”
Me: “Santa isn’t bringing you a puppy.”
Him: “But Santa gives you what you ask for.”
Me, to myself: Dear Santa, can you pay off my student loans?
Me, to him, ignoring half of what he said: “I talk to Santa and he knows we aren’t ready for another dog. Especially not a puppy – why do you think?”
Him, disappointed but turning into a good sport: “Because puppies eat things?”
Me: “Yep, they’d probably eat the hamster.”
Luckily, this made him laugh. And I reassured him that ONE DAY we will get another dog. When he and his brother are ready to take care of it. By themselves.
Lies upon lies
I’m totally winning Mother-of-the-Year this Holiday season. So far I’ve contradicted 3 lies about the jolly ole elf that I told them last year. Let’s review, shall we?
1. Santa isn’t magic enough to be all places at once. There are FAKE Santas on the loose.
2. Rudolph isn’t real. Real animals don’t have red noses. Unless they are albinos.
3. Santa doesn’t give you everything your little heart desires. That makes him kinda lame?
But I was about to score a touchdown. Because: enter the Saturday my parents took the boys on a daylong Christmas adventure.
It began in the morning with Cookies and Crafts with Santa. An hour later, they were dancing along with half the town at the Christmas parade featuring, well, um, Santa!
When they arrived home 4 hours later, the youngest huddled up to me conspiratorially and whispered, “Mommy, you were RIGHT! Santa DOES have HELPERS! Because the Cookies Santa was DIFFERENT from the Parade Santa! But, don’t worry, I know who the real one was. The Cookies one! Because he was FAT!”
Don’t be surprised if you find my children eyeing Santa’s girth the next time you see them. At least there’s one lie I haven’t busted. The bigger the Santa, the better the Santa. And magic is restored to the universe.
How do you keep all the Santa tall tales straight in your house? Share your tips below or on Facebook at MothersRest.
Photo credit: hue12 photography on Unsplash.com
EDITOR’S NOTE
Super excited to share that Triad Moms on Main featured this post on their blog.