Over on Mama Notes there's a post asking do your kids believe in Santa? This is something I think Brendan and I will have to talk about next year, but so far this year, there's no Santa. I always found that tradition a little weird, a fat guy breaking into your house and watching you while you sleep...I know I probably look too far into it and I should just lighten up and bring some magic into my kid's life, but I don't want to lie to her! No, Santa isn't going to fly around the world and he isn't going to come into our house and he didn't buy you those presents. I made half of them, with you watching, so no, not Santa.
My mom thinks it's sad I never believed in Santa, but I don't feel like I missed out on anything. I vaguely remember driving home from somewhere on Christmas Eve and my mom pointing to a plane in the sky and saying "Look, that's Rudolph!" and being excited, but who knows how old I was, and with three older siblings, I couldn't have been shielded from the truth for too long. What I DO remember was my oldest naughty brother (really, he was horrible as a child!) unlocking my parent's bedroom door to with a toothpick or similar, looking everywhere in their closet for Christmas presents. And the stash of used boxes we kept for wrapping gifts, stuffed up in a crawl space sort of place in our laundry room. And the story of my mom smuggling a Cabbage Patch Kid out of the store in 1985, which was my present that Christmas. Santa never really played into it.
So for Ingrid, I know I won't tell her about Santa, I won't make her sit on Santa's knee and have creepy pictures taken, I won't leave out cookies and milk and carrots for the reindeer. Call me a Scrooge if you must, but I don't see the point. Christmas to me is a fresh pine tree, lots of twinkle lights, sugar cookies, cinnamon rolls on Christmas morning, egg nog, and the family coming together to hang out with each other, play games, and eat lots of food, and then bundle up and take a walk out in the snow. To me, that's way better than Santa.