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Yes, I believe in Santa. No, I’m not crazy!

I’m not sure what the average age is of kids to stop believing in Santa, but if I had to make santa2a wager, I’d guess it’s probably around 8. I can remember being at my Grandma’s house in North Carolina (where we went for EVERY holiday) with all of my cousins when my brother, the kind soul that he is, broke the news to me. Yes, he was smiling. I don’t recall it being some kind of devastating realization that my WHOLE LIFE WAS A LIE, but I’m pretty sure I wasn’t happy about it.

POOF. Just like that, the magic of Christmas disappears. Of course it’s still awesome. The food, the treats, the decorations, the PRESENTS- but there’s no illusion of a fat man coming down the chimney and delivering the perfect present. It became my job to keep that illusion alive for the younger cousins. That was a job I took very seriously, but I’d be lying if I said Christmas still felt the same. It feels like a thousand years ago, but I was only about 10 when Santa stopped getting credit for presents and I knew it was my parents writing FROM:SANTA on my gifts. They did that shit until I moved out!

19 years later, I finally realize that my brother was WRONG! Santa IS real!

No, I haven’t lost my mind. I’m not suddenly seeing little elves running around, flying reindeer, or a man in red coming out of my chimney. You don’t need to call the mental hospital and tell them to come quickly with a straight jacket. I promise!
I’m also not talking about getting into the holiday spirit and being figurative. The spirit of the season is Santa and he’s as real as you want him to be! Yeah…. no.

I mean REAL. The man is REAL. Not however long ago he was Saint Nicholas, but TODAY. And he’s in my house, and not scarfing cookies for once! Don’t look at me like that, I’m being serious!
Oh, and his magic is real, too. VERY real!

It all started a few weeks ago, but this morning, it was confirmed. That magical bastard is my new tenant until Christmas morning.

There are breakfast issues in this house. Parker wakes up as early as humanly possible, but is NOT a morning person. I know, makes no sense, right? Do kids ever? He requested a bowl of oatmeal, and proceeded to give me a ration of shit about it. I don’t know why he’d pick something he didn’t really want, but sometimes it’s best not to ask questions. We don’t let him get away with eating NOTHING, so naturally, breakfast devolved into a fight- and with a 4 year old, a lot of crocodile tears.

We don’t have a lot of time to waste in the morning unless it’s the weekend, and we don’t wake up early enough to make for more time to waste. Do you even KNOW me?? There is under an hour to get dressed, make and eat breakfast, before we have to get out of the house and get Holden to school. We have yet to be late and I’m not about to break that record now over a bowl of maple & brown sugar oatmeal. I’d love to get through a single meal without having to tell Parker to hurry up, but the kid is the slowest eater on the planet, and instead of just chewing faster than a snail moves, he cries. Or yells. Or ignores us. Or finds something to distract him.

This morning we were quickly running out of time. I had left the kitchen to fix Holden’s intense case of bed head, and that left Thomas to try to get Parker to hurry up. It wasn’t going well. That’s when it happened. Santa, my new tenant, really came through for us.

Amidst the blubbering, bitching, and moaning, I heard Thomas threaten to call Santa if Parker didn’t stop crying and start eating, and you know what? The kid instantly shut up! INSTANTLY. POOF! MAGIC! HO HO HO, BITCHES!

Santa’s presence from the day after Halloween until the day after Christmas absolutely can’t be denied! There is no one who keeps my kids from being assholes better than him; not even me! The “mom-voice” can’t compare to the threat of letting Santa know about their shenanigans. It’s no wonder people consider the holiday season to be so joyous; it’s the mildest childhood assholishness time of the whole year- and all thanks to one man who people think is nothing but make-believe.

Lemme tell ya something- the silence at breakfast this morning was NOT make-believe!

Don’t worry, Santa. Those snot-nosed non-believing 10 year olds will regret telling their younger siblings and cousins that you don’t exist! We parents who aren’t above threats, bribery, and manipulation have your back!

 

Posted on December 4, 2013 by Holdin' Holden 1 Comment
Holdin' Holden

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