Me: They must have just been bad last year.
The Boy: *rolling his eyes* Come on, Mom. I’m ten. You can tell me the truth.
Me: You think your mother would lie to you? *More shock on my part… looking faker by the minute I’m sure*
The Boy: Yes
Me: I hardly ever lie.
The Boy: So, tell me the truth - is he real?
Me: Do you think he’s real? (Yes, I'm totally evading the question here.)
The Boy: I think that parents put toys under the tree after the kids go to bed and just say that it’s Santa. Am I close?
It’s obvious the kid is on to me. So, with a heavy heart and the realization that his last magical Christmas has passed, I fess up. I tell him that there was a St. Nicholas who brought toys to children many years ago. But, after he died, the parents thought the kdis would be so disappointed that they carried on the tradition to keep the magic alive. (Not bad, eh?)
The Boy seemed a) disappointed there is no magical sleigh or flying reindeer b) impressed that I’d actually been able to keep up a lie for so long, and c) worried he might not get present from “Santa” this year. I assured him that as long as he was good (and never breathed a word of this to his younger brother) he would.
That was a sad day for me. My little boy had grow up. But… it got worse…
A couple of days later, The Boy lost a tooth. As you can tell from the Santa conversation, he’s way too cool for kid stuff now, so he was very blasé about the whole lost tooth thing. Which is probably why his mom forgot all about the lost tooth by bedtime. (That and the fact that The Baby Who Won’t Sleep is turning me into a zombie. I swear, some days I’m lucky I remember how to turn on my computer.) All night I forgot about the tooth. Imagine my Bad Mommy moment when the next morning I wake The Boy up for school, he pops out of bed, gleefully checks under his pillow… and sees not money from the tooth fairy, but his tooth still sitting there.
Doh, doh, doh!
Yeah. I had to fess up about the fairy then and there, too. And I gave him an extra dollar for being so understanding. He seemed okay with it (money talks – he must be my kid), but on the way to school that morning he turns to me and says:
“You know what, Mom? I think I’ve figured out why you never look very hard for the eggs that the Easter Bunny hides.”
Oh, well. We had a good run.
~Trigger Happy Halliday