Dear Justice, About Santa...

I did a really hard thing today.  I told Justice about Santa.  It's been bugging me for months.  His friends at school are all discussing it and he is staunchly defending the old guy.  Eventually, that's going to be a problem.  So I decided to be honest with him and tell him.  

I wrote him a letter.

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Dear Justice,

     I know you have a lot of questions about Santa, and whether or not he really does exist.   You are at the age where many of your classmates do not believe in Santa anymore, and you have started to ask questions.  You cast the doubters aside, and I admire how you stick to your convictions.

     As your Mama, I would love nothing more than to have you believe in Santa for as long as you live.  The magical look on your face when talking about him and his elves and reindeer is something I never tire of.  But I also understand that eventually you are going to need the truth, and I don’t want you to hear about Santa from anyone other than me.  

     The answer to the question “Is Santa real?” is yes.  Santa is real in my heart, just as he is in your heart.  You have magical memories of Santa.  Reindeer hooves outside your bedroom window, magical bells sounding at bedtime to get you to sleep on time for his arrival.  Emptied glasses of milk and half-eaten cookies to remind you that he was there the night before.  The stockings, the presents, Archie’s antics, but mostly, the love.  The love that you feel for Santa is real, just like the spirit of Santa is.

     So who puts the presents under the tree?  Your Mama and Dad do.  We carry on the magical tradition of Christmas for you, the same way our parents did for us, and the same way you will do for your children one day.

     Christmas is my favorite holiday of the year.  I know it is yours, too.  The sparkle in your eyes fills my heart with joy whenever you talk to me about Santa.  But you are a very smart boy, and I know that you question some very obvious things, such as; 

     How does he get inside?  How does he really fit all those gifts on the sleigh?  How does he eat all those cookies?  Do elves really exist?  And how about Archie;  how does a stuffed elf really do all that stuff at night?  The magical spirit of Christmas, that’s how. 

     I think you know in your head that those things are impossible to do when you read it aloud.  But that’s OK.  And although you may be very disappointed right now, I want you to realize something very important.  The magic does not have to stop for you.  Who is the person that you know that acts like a complete child at this time of year?  ME!  I love Christmas, and I love the magic that is Santa.  I love choosing your presents, and hiding them.  I love making Dad drag them out of the garage on Christmas Eve while I’m trying to talk you into going to sleep before Santa flies overhead.  And I marvel at the fact that my 11 year old brain-child still believes Santa can not only fit a piano on his sleigh with billions of other children’s gifts, but somehow he gets it into the locked house very quietly.

     Don’t let this change the way you feel about Santa.  Santa is every bit everything that you have always dreamed.  He is good, he is warm, and he is wonderful.  Just like you are.  

     I love you more than anything in this whole wide world.  I hope you know how difficult it was for me to write this letter to you.  It’s been weighing heavy on my heart for months, and although I don’t want you to grow up, it’s inevitable.  It’s going to happen whether either of us is ready or not.

     Please understand that this will not ruin Christmas for you.  Think of all the things you can help me with now!  You still have two little brothers that will rely on you to help instill the magic that is Santa into their hearts, too.  You can help me with Archie, and you can help your Dad put stuff together on Christmas Eve.  You can be the guy that gets to bite the cookies and scatter the reindeer food on the porch before you go to bed.  And mostly, I expect you to still be just as excited as I am on Christmas morning when you walk into the living room to see what Santa brought you.

I love you so much,

Mama

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I gave him the letter after he got home from school.  I asked him to read it by himself, and then come back to see me and we could talk if he wanted.  He came back in the room, with red eyes and said: 

"I still believe.  I know he's real in my heart, just like you said."

And he hugged me for what felt like forever.  And then he simply took a deep breath and said:

"Growing up can really suck."

Agreed.