“Santa, Santa! Do your reindeer really fly!!” This was coming from my 4 year old as he anxiously awaited to see Ol’ Saint Nick.
“But how?” And, “How old are you?” This from my almost 8 year old. He has also written Santa a letter. Complete with the address of “The North Poll.”
I am dreading the moment when he finds out this whole Santa thing is a sham. My hubby and I discussed that maybe we should tell him. I just can’t do it. I don’t want to. I’ve already shattered the Tooth Fairy lie, and that was traumatic enough (click the link if you want a good laugh).
My sister also advised against it. She told her oldest son, now 18 years old, when he was the same age as my son now. She told me that it was a bad mommy moment and she would give anything to take it back. The look on his face broke her heart.
I almost blew it. He was asking me questions about Saint Nicholas. The real one. So I thought I would get a book from the library. Brilliant thinking, right? Nope. Thankfully I told him that he was not allowed to read it without me because I wanted to read it too. I quickly had to stop reading it to him. It flat out said, “We all remember when we found out Santa Claus wasn’t real…” Yikes! I barely dodged that bullet. Or did I? Was he reading ahead while he was sitting next to me?
Since then he seems to be asking more questions. Trying to figure it out. Trying to catch Santa in a lie. Going all out to either make himself believe or to see if we will stop him.
It’s good to believe in something and to believe that Someone is looking out for us. We need to live with a hope and an expectation that something wonderful is going to happen. We long to have our wishes granted. We look forward to life being simpler. We want good things to happen to good people. We want gifts to be given with nothing expected in return. It’s called hope.
Hope is a feeling of expectation and desire for a certain thing to happen.
I hope for a world where there are no wars, no refugees, no murder. I hope for peace, and love, and kindness.
Sometimes I simply hope to have hope.
For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us. Romans 8:18
My hope is not in politicians. It is not in laws. Not even in non-profit organizations. My hope is in heaven with the real Saint Nicholas. My hope is in The Lord.
Hope is a beautiful thing.
Do your children still believe in Santa Claus? How did they find out he wasn’t really the one leaving gifts? What are you hoping for?
I love how you validate all types of hope.
Apparently my father snuck out of bed one Christmas Eve and set up camp on the living room couch so he could “catch the real Santa in action.” He fell asleep during his vigil only to wake up on Christmas morning. Santa had indeed come and put presents under the tree, but my dad’s stocking was full of coal. He believed for a really long time.
P.S. I think that whenever children learn the ins and outs of the Santa truth, they are even more delighted to be Santa’s Little Helpers and take part in Angel Trees, Samaritan’s Purse, etc.
I love this story about your father! That is hilarious he had coal in his stocking! And that is a great perspective of what children learn from Santa. Thank you!