1m2aSandbox

Last week I was at a mom’s group with several friends, and as we sat around chatting and catching up one mom started telling a cute story about her six-year-old and a recent lunch table experience.

It seems that this little girl – we’ll call her Susie – had a friend who, at six years old, insisted that Santa is not real. Susie became quite concerned, and several other kids at the table started to panic. As the children argued and began yelling at the poor “Santa basher”, the teacher came over to see what was going on. By this time, at least one child was near tears at the thought that Santa was not real, so the teacher began to calm the child, assuring him that Santa is, indeed, real. Unconvinced, the student continued to cry.

“So what happened?” one mom asked interestedly.

I’ve always been ambivalent about the whole Santa thing: I enjoy the magic and childlike wonder, but feel incredibly uncomfortable actively encouraging my children to believe a lie. So I’ve lived in this uncomfortable zone at Christmas time, deflecting questions and trying to avoid all-out lying to my kids. And yes, we go see Santa for photos, and hang stockings, and all that – but we don’t do Elf on a Shelf or go crazy with the Santa idea.

This year just after school started, the mom of one of Cora’s friends pulled me aside and told me that Cora had told her daughter Laura that Santa Claus wasn’t real. In a very sweet and non-threatening way, the mom asked me to please ask Cora to respect other family’s traditions and not ruin the illusion of Santa Claus. Mortified, I assured the mom that Cora and I had never even had “the” Santa talk, and as far as I knew Cora still believed, and perhaps it was a misunderstanding?

Maddie and Cora each have their own bedrooms, and their own closets. Both closets are full, which sounds crazy since each closet is a double-door, wall-length closet with PLENTY of space for a small child’s clothes and perhaps a newlywed couple in some countries. But in our house we don’t get rid of stuff very quickly; we have tubs and tubs of clothing in Maddie’s closet ready to be handed down to Cora, and in Cora’s closet we’ve got tubs and tubs of clothing Cora is handing down to her young cousin.

This past year, Cora’s closet has been gradually emptying out as baby J starts growing. We’ve said a tearful good-bye to newborns, then three month olds, then six month olds – you get the picture. Each tub leaving is both a cause for rejoicing – more STUFF gone! – and a pause to remember my babies, and how they’re moving inevitably onward and upward.