WARNING! If you are under the age of ten years old DO NOT READ THIS BLOG. I don't want to crush your hopes and dreams like mine were.
For me as a young girl Christmas was about magic and miracles and happiness. It was undoubtedly one of my most favorite times of the year. I loved going sledding out in the snow, making snowmen with my dad and sister, and of course I loved coming down on Christmas morning to a tree filled with presents from Santa Claus. I was a firm believer in Santa Claus. Sure there were those nay sayers, who would try to prove me wrong but my philosophy was seeing isn't believing, believing is seeing. Santa was more than a jolly old man who gave me presents each year he was a symbol of the magic of Christmas. I loved the Santa Claus movies with Tim Allen. If you haven't seen them I recommend you do! But to see how happy him and the elves were up in the North Pole just made me feel nice and warm inside. My parents were very good with keeping the charade up about Santa Claus. One year my sister and I awoke to find that on our fireplace, (we have these glass doors that close) was a little piece of red fabric. Santa had ripped his pants going up our chimney!!!! It was magical! It made him so real to think that I was actually holding a piece of Santa's clothing! I wanted to keep them forever! But my mom made me and my sister send them back to Mrs. Claus so she could patch his pants up for him. Each year we would leave him cookies and carrots for the reindeer, each year the cookies would be gone and the carrots would be nibbled. So I had no reason to prove them wrong. As I started getting older my doubts slowly started creeping into the back of my mind. But I didn't dare think about them. Then one day in fifth grade my good friend Haley jumped into a lively debate with me about Santa Claus. "Santa isn't real I know so!" "How do you know?" I asked sarcastically. "Because my parents told me they do it!!!" I think that moment was one of the worst feelings I have ever had in the pit of my stomach. My heart sank and it was all I could do to stop from crying right there on the spot. "Well I don't believe you." I said shyly. I wanted to drop the subject completely but she went on to say how her dad would tell her brother there was such a thing as a jolly fat man who put presents under the tree and she would smile and say yes there is! haha I remember this conversation like it was yesterday. That feeling of dread. I couldn't get my mind off it the rest of the day. "Because my parents told me they do it!!!" Kept playing over and over again in my head like a bad record. I went home that night and confronted my mom about it. Actually I tried to get answers. "Maybe Santa doesn't come to Haley's house because she doesn't believe and he knows that!" My mom was on the computer and I could tell she was trying to ignore me. As I kept asking more and more questions she slowly sighed and turned to me. "Alright sweety come here..." She said. She set me on her lap and prepared me for the blow. Those words that came out of her mouth were ones I never wanted to hear. I cried harder than I ever had before. My mom thought I was so upset because I they had been lying to me the whole time but I was most upset because my childhood friend, companion, someone I had turned to when I was upset was gone. Just like that. In an instant. Everything I had believed in everything I wanted to be true was no more. To this day thinking about that sad day after school still chokes me up. It took me about two years to get over that. That year during Christmas I pretended as if my Mom had never said it. I tried to repress it in the back of my mind just to get the joy of Christmas back. Year after year I would convince myself it was all a lie, they must be mistaken. Because you see to me it was more than a holiday figure, santa was the heart of the magic of Christmas. He made me feel as if anything was possible. I guess I'm glad that I believed in him for so long. If you think about fifth grade is kind of pushing it. I've heard of people who stopped believing when they were two. I had a good run with St. Nick. But I got to thinking. Do I want my kids to go through the same thing that I did? Do I want them to feel the same heart break that I did? Maybe I shouldn't even start the fantasy and come clean with them right away. But I know if I did that I would be denying them the happiness that I felt for so long too...I guess I still have some time to think about it. Now I have found other ways to find that joy in Christmas. I have learned that it isn't all about Santa Claus. I remember the true reason for Christmas. To celebrate Christ's birth and have fun times with your friends and family :) So I wish you all a very Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!!!
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