My son’s Christmas list seems to get bigger with each passing year. I find myself longing for the days when opening a pack of play-do made him happy and he would want nothing more than to dive into the squishy stuff at hand, never paying any mind to the pile of presents that still awaited him under the tree. These days, I find myself confronted with a nine year-olds’ inquisitive mind about all subjects albeit one that he and I know he would prefer to keep in the naïve land of childhood innocence.
The Moral Dilemma
So how long do I pretend? My nineteen year-old daughter recently let me know that she was on to me by age eight because she questioned why mommy and Santa had the same handwriting. I was never one for wrapping or writing in disguise. It was always done in a mad rush a few nights before while my husband would put her to bed. I never thought to distinguish my handwriting on those ridiculous “to and from” tags bought in 100 packs at Walmart. I must say I was horrified. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I implored. “Come on Mom, admit to the “No Santa” idea? That would certainly cut down on presents.” [Read More…]