Dreadful to read of people outing Santa as not real. I believe in him. I know there are different legends surrounding him, but based on one particular version, why wouldn’t I want to? Who wouldn’t want to believe in a man who is so inspired by the love of God to spread love by giving presents? If you’re good, you are rewarded. Hmmm…make good choices, be rewarded for it. Yes, I can get behind that concept. Make poor choices (or be “bad”), get coal (insinuations of fire and brimstone…interesting concept to ponder one day).
My sons have begun to ask about the big guy in red. Peer pressure has seeped into their lives faster than the frosting melts into the crevices of a cinnamon roll. I usually deflect and redirect as needed. I will never say the words “he’s not real” to them. No way. I don’t think my parents ever explicitly told me. I’m forty-one. I still listen for the hooves on the roof.
When I was around eight years old, I really began to doubt. I was certain he wasn’t real. Well, when Santa shows up at your front door to ask why you don’t believe in him, it makes you rethink the whole situation. The pictures truly captured my shock (I wish I had them, but the basement flooded a lot). I never turned back since that December night. It was an awesome feeling to see him up close and personal.
My sons and I went to visit Santa at the mall last week (yes, I am aware of how that flies in the face of the big guy in red not being about commercialism). Santa spent about 20 minutes with my sons. My youngest made his Jack Nicholson face in one of the shots and one is a classic picture with Santa. But my favorite picture was taken by the very sweet elf as the boys were just chatting with Santa.
I will treasure this picture forever.
The other wonderful thing that happened during this visit was eavesdropping on my sons. I heard them emphatically tell Santa that even though some of their friends said he isn’t real, they know he is. They told him they looked all over the house and, I quote, “Mom is good, but she can’t hide a tree in the house.”
Thank goodness Santa brings our tree. The boys go to sleep with empty stockings hanging on the railing and nothing else. Come morning, Santa has brought the fully decorated tree, filled the stockings, and left the presents from his sack under the tree. Santa’s presents aren’t wrapped because he only has to pull them from his sack, so the wrapped presents are from Mom & Dad.
Mom is good, but she can’t hide a tree in the house.
I just hope the boys don’t go in our neighbor’s backyard.
ohbloodyhell8 