My heart aches a bit each time one of the kids stops believing. Laddie believed for so long, I feared that he would get laughed at when he professed his belief at school. His class was full of a bunch of aggressive punks who pounced on anyone who wasn't 'cool'. Oh, how I despised this group of kids. They were MTV to my kid's Romper Room. There was no gelling with them for the oldest child of a big family.
Years ago, I ran a garage sale for the parish and one day someone brought in a gently used toy kitchen set. I snagged it for Curly, who was about 2 or 3 at the time. I explained to Laddie as he helped me drag it out to the car that I would save it for Christmas. That's when he expressed some confusion about Santa. I think he was in 6th grade. I set him straight, but it broke my heart.
Curly is the last of a dying breed here. She is my only 'believer'. She is still 9, but will be 10 in less than 2 weeks. Reggie decided to be a punk ass older brother a few weeks ago. Curly came up from the basement and asked me if I was Santa. Reg was coming up the stairs right behind her and she made a googlie-eyed face at me. Translation: don't let Reg know I was asking you that.
Reg was chuckling, and looking a little nervous at the same time when he appeared from the basement. I think he realized that his 'joke' had overstepped. He's in this phase currently where he can't say anything legitimate. Everything he says ends with 'just kidding.' The formula goes something like this: tall tale, split second, 'just kidding', followed quickly by him admitting that his teacher didn't really light a book on fire in class or he somehow clarifies whatever the Hell cockamamie story he just made up. He's a barrel of laughs.
|Ah, the good ole days when |
they all believed. Look at the
way Tank is eyeing Santa.
Love this! Believe you me,
Reggie is getting coal
and nuts in his stocking!
'I was just kidding, Curly,' he pleaded giving me the once over to assess how much trouble he was in. How could I have raised the next 'Jimmy the jerk'?
I played it cool. Curly kept giving me weird eye expressions begging me not to admit in front of Reg that she had questioned me about Santa. I just assured her that Santa was the real deal and playfully shoved Reg, whose brow was beading up with sweat. 'Knock it off Reg, of course Santa is real Curly.'
A week later Coach was flipping thru channels one night. The kids enjoy watching something for a few minutes before bed. Well, I guess I don't have to tell you that there is very rarely anything family friendly on the TV. Let me first point out that my husband is TYPICALLY the most over-protective, insanely conservative father when it comes to inappropriate TV. So, I'm not sure what happened here.
He landed on 'Four Christmases' with Reese Witherspoon and Vince Vaughan. Yes, this flick is inappropriate, but parts are clean and it is funny. Well, we hadn't seen this movie in years. It happened to be a night when I was still suffering with the bad headache. It was just one of those things where you sit there and try to remember what might be coming up in the next scene, but it is impossible - especially when there is funny stuff happening.
Vince Vaughan's character was passing out Christmas gifts to family members he hadn't seen in awhile. He makes a joke to his nephew that the kid's dad probably didn't spend much on his 'Santa' gifts. Well, he has just blown Santa's cover and he doesn't realize that the kid still believed, because he's a bit out of touch over the kid's age, etc.
Curly was sitting on the couch next to me. I made no sudden movements, but my insides ached now more than my head. I feared that if I changed the channel very abruptly there would be red flags everywhere. So, just before she went to bed, I turned to her and said, 'You know that was just a movie. They were just joking around with that kid.' She said she got that, but her body language said something else. Crap!
I am asking for help here. Any suggestions on how to reel Curly back in? How can I convince my sweet young baby (who IS almost 10) to continue to believe? I am thinking we need to stage something creative. If you are as stumped as I am, then just share how you discovered 'the truth.' How old were you, or your kids?
My one and only comment to mine when he questioned Santa was that you have to believe to receive. And to this day, Santa still leaves something under the tree for him since he hasn't yet openly admitted to me that he doesn't believe...and he's 23.
Once they ask (especially at that age), it's usually better to tell the truth. But we did say to our older ones what Gigi said to hers - it kept them quiet enough on the topic to make sure they didn't spoil the younger ones' fun.
yes, that is a good line. I will use it if it comes up again. She hasn't said another word.
Sometimes the truth hurts . . . the mom, anyway. :(
I used to tell the other kids to keep a lid on it, but I think the topic just fell off my radar with Reg. Mini has admitted to me that she knew long before she let on. She says she didn't think it made any sense. Smarty pants!
Well thanks for reading! Come again!
Easy. Another viewing of the original "Miracle on 34th Street" with Edmund Gwynn makes me believe all over again and I'm 52 years old. I automatically start sobbing every time Santa starts speaking Swedish to the girl in line at Macy's. Just like Natalie Wood at the end of the movie, I start repeating, "I believe. I believe. I believe." The Sundance channel has been running it regularly, but they colorized it.
Ha! Thanks for the idea. Can you believe her older brother could be such a punk?
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