Santa Died This Year & I Miss Him

This was the year. The year my kid stopped believing in Santa. I'm sitting here, sipping coffee from my percolator, contemplating what it means when your child stops believing in Santa. To me it's akin to a balloon popping but with no fun confetti flying everywhere, just a loud noise followed by silence.

I don't remember when I stopped believing, I do remember I was ok with it. I didn't have an older sibling to spoil it for me and I wasn't bombarded with TV and other social media saying it wasn't true, it just happened naturally. My son and I had the conversation last year and I left it up to him whether Santa was real or not. He asked and I simply responded back with, "Well, what do you think?" It worked, barely. This year was different. He came to the conversation armed with what his friends at school said, what he saw on TV and said, "Mom, you have to tell me the TRUTH. Don't lie to me!" I again asked him what he thought, he said he knew Santa wasn't real and stared me down like a cop interrogating a witness, just looking for any tell-tale signs I was fibbing. So right then and there I made the choice not to lie. I took a deep breath and told him he was right, there was no Santa. Those were hard words for me to say and I never knew how much I was going to dread saying them until I was forced to.

For me, having to tell my son there is no Santa (or tooth fairy, or Easter bunny) signified an end to innocence, an end to the belief in magic, an end to the simplicity of imagination and childhood. I wanted one more year where I had to wrap gifts in the middle of the night and write out tags saying, "From: Santa" one more year where we would snuggle up and watch the Norad Santa Tracker and falling asleep just minutes before Santa flew over our house. The fun of moving Mr. Igglewiggle (our Elf on the Shelf) from place to place, seeing the notes and goodies he brought back from the North Pole. Just one more year where he believed in the magic and the possibility of his imagination.

This year was different. When I brought something home that was a Christmas gift, I just told him to go in the other room while I stored it away. He touched Mr. Igglewiggle for the first time ever as we made him our tree topper beside the angel. He would say things like, "Now that you don't have to buy all the gifts that Santa used to bring, you can save that money and we can go to Disney." His mind automatically went to the practical aspect of it. But I'm left with the longing for that magic that only Santa brings. The wonder and excitement in his eyes talking about the North Pole and Rudolph, he believed and through him I got to believe again too.

I always knew this day would come, but now Christmas is different. So, if your child still believes let them for as long as possible, enjoy the wonder and excitement they have because before you know it, it'll be lost forever.