A warning: if you have little kids, don’t let them read this, please. Holiday tradition talks ahead.
Ok, true confession time. I am *not* a sentimental mom. I don’t miss the kid’s younger years. Yes, they were adorable. Yes, their squeaky voices were beyond sweet. Yes, things were simpler then. But, nope, older kids FTW all day, every day.
When the kids were little, they were alllll about Santa, the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy. Buddy, our Elf on the Shelf, was the perfect tool to keep my monsters in check in the weeks leading up to Christmas. I loved their excitement over the holidays – their pure joy in seeing that Santa was coming. Christmas morning was 100% magic through the eyes of kids who really believe.
But being Santa? Holy shit, that’s hard work. That’s making sure the kids get equal gifts, that’s making sure Santa has his own wrapping paper (note to new parents: don’t wrap gifts from Santa. Elves don’t have time to wrap. Thank me later), that’s making up a new handwriting for Santa and making sure you leave out cookies and milk. Is that fun- of course it is? And it’s what a lot of parents do to bring that bit of Christmas magic to their kid.
After roughly 11 years though, I was done. I was tired. I was over it. Scrooge, thy name is Heather.
But I’ll be damned if I’d tell my kids the truth about any of this. Kiddos – want to talk about drugs? I’m your girl. Relationships and sex? Pull up a chair! What’s going on with our government? Let me tell you a story. The truth about Santa et al? Hard no.
I always thought I’d know when the time was right and I’d take the kids (Scorch first since he’s older, obviously) out for hot chocolate and we’d have a long talk about the magic of Christmas, the spirit of giving and what Santa really means. Then I’d threaten him within an inch of his life to make sure he didn’t tell his sister. But did I do that? No, I did not. Neither did the Hubs. We just literally did nothing. Seemed like a legit parenting choice.
Then last Spring, Scorch and I were home and he told me he needed something and I informed him that the Easter Bunny had brought him that same thing a few weeks earlier for Easter. He promptly yelled back from his room – “do you mean, that *you* bought that for me for Easter?”
Awwwww, shit. The gig is up. I played stupid and told him that the Easter Bunny was the bringer of gifts. (Me- the mom who couldn’t WAIT for the truth to be out!!) Scorch looked at me like I was dumb, and said, “Mom, just give it up. I’ve known since 5th grade. I’m 13, it’s time.”
And guys- I cried. I legit teared up, standing in his bedroom because this day that 1) I wanted to come and 2) was really well past time had arrived and I was not ready. I was not OK. Scorch, continuing to look at me like I was an idiot, told me he had known since 5th grade and was just waiting for me to say something. *sigh* The only thing that went according to my previous plans was me telling Scorch if he told Bean, I’d castrate him. (don’t hesitate to ask me for parenting advice- I’m KILLING it).
Fast forward to this week when the Bean lost a tooth. She came into the kitchen and asked me what she should do with it. I told her to put it under her pillow for the Tooth Fairy and it was her time to look at me like I was an idiot. “Mom, the Tooth Fairy isn’t real.” and she THREW her tooth in the garbage.
I did what I do best, and deflected and didn’t say another word because I was NOT READY again. But the next day in the car, my child confessed that she knew that none of the big 3 were real and hadn’t believed in a long while. Cue the tears again.
So, here we are. A family with kids officially too old to believe. On one hand, I’m not mad about that. On the other, I know I’m still going to get the kids gifts from Santa, pick out a special wrapping paper and sign his name in his special signature. After all, I’ve had 13 years to perfect it.