For several days Grace has followed her father around with questions about Santa Claus (several months ago she asked similar questions about the tooth fairy after reading a book in the school library). He pushed the questions off, worrying that I would be hurt if not included in the discussion. Finally this morning she wrapped her arms around my waist and said, "Mom, I keep asking Dad about Santa, can you talk to me about it now?" She asked me this 15 minutes before school started, so I put her off one last time, "We'll talk about it tonight, okay, before you go to bed."
She had come to her own conclusion, of course, and hoped against hope that somehow her Dad and I might be able to extend the illusion a little bit longer. Oh, how I wanted to extend the illusion. Nearly every day I almost gasp at the passage of time. Where is my wee toddler, the imp, the squirrelly little Grace who made me want to scream in exasperation and kiss her all over at exactly the same time? Now she's seven year old Grace--smart, inquisitive, thoughtful--when she tilts her head in thought, concentrating on her homework, I catch a glimpse of the Grace she will be years from now. Talk about heartache.
So tonight, as her sister slurped on a popsicle in the kitchen, the three of us cuddled on the sofa. Craig opened the conversation, "So you wanted to ask us about Santa?" Her eyes said everything, and Craig and I started to squint our own eyes to keep the tears from falling.
"I think Santa maybe isn't real."
"Have kids been talking about this at school?"
"No, no they haven't."
"So what made you wonder?"
"Well, the tooth fairy made me wonder since I know about that."
Her voice was starting to quiver at this point, and I asked her "how does that make you feel?"
Tears trickled down her cheek, "Well, it breaks my heart because I can feel the imagination going away, because Santa is part of my imagination."
In tearful chorus, Craig and I answered, "yes, yes, we know, we know." And then we went on to confirm her suspicions and to talk about the spirit of Santa Claus and how this knowledge won't change the contents of her stocking. But I don't think she was too worried about her stocking. I remember all too vividly that feeling--that the ability to lose myself in an imaginary world was slipping away. I didn't want that to happen, and neither does my girl.
She will take this confirmation in stride, as most kids do. At fifteen, I still remember running down the stairs to check my stocking, wondering aloud at what Santa had brought. He never really went away completely, and I hope he'll stay for her too.
3 comments:
Aww...at least it came from her own curiosity and her parents, not some kid at school. I had a teacher at school when I was little that just flat out told us there was no Santa. Granted, it was 5th grade, but I was like Grace and didn't want to lose that piece of my childhood whimsy.
You handled it very well. It does bring tears.
God bless all.Love,Aunt Kathy
mike told me tonight i had to check the blog - i have been terrible about anything to do with blogs lately and apologize that i have not kept up with reading your blog or keeping up better with ours.
i have tears just reading this post. i can feel the time slipping away as i read your story about the conversation you had with grace recently. it sounds like the situation and talk could not have gone better but it does not make that "turning point" or i am not sure of the exact word - but it does not make it any easier.
i believe in the magic of santa and hope as you said that the magic stays for her too!!! :)
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