Remember that story a few weeks ago when we lost the mother fucking Elf on the Shelf, and I was all panicked that it might be the last Christmas for believing in Santa in my household? Well, it saddens me beyond words, but I'm pretty sure the jig is up (at least for my son anyway). Yes, the little dude pretty much told my husband and me in a round about way that he's not no longer buying what we've been trying to sell him for the past eight years.
So it was Christmas Eve and time to arrange the traditional plate of cookies and thank you letters to the red-suited fat man himself. And while my daughter was practically bursting at the seams to put pen to paper, my son was absolutely nowhere to be found. The kid didn't have the slightest bit of interest in participating in any of our normal preparations for Santa's big arrival. In fact, we couldn't even get him to sign his flippin' name on the note that my daughter had so meticulously constructed all by herself.
I immediately felt a pit in my stomach as I wondered if my fears were actually coming true. After all, third grade was the very same year when someone at school had spilled the beans to me about the whole Santa gig. Had some little punk done the same thing for my son, as well? I was all prepared to kick some serious elementary school ass when the voice of reason (also known as my husband) suggested having a little one-on-one pow-wow with the boy about just what was going through his young and impressionable eight-year-old mind.
Unfortunately, though, the only thing my husband was able to extract from the entire three-minute conversation was that Santa "didn't really make sense" and some other mysterious ramblings about something to do with "outer space". (Did I mention that the kid is easily distracted by shiny objects?) So, naturally, I over-analyzed the shit out of every single piece of dialogue that took place and concluded that our little guy was trying his darnedest to change the subject because he knows how badly we still want him to believe. Ugh.
I suppose I should just be grateful that he didn't spoil all the fun for his sister and that the kid is actually smart enough to put two and two together. But I can't help but be bummed to realize that this particular phase of innocence is quite possibly over for him. Sure I may moan and groan about all the shopping and wrapping and hiding of presents, but truth be told, I LOVE playing Santa. It just makes Christmas that much more magical for me. And I'm sure it's only a matter of time now before my daughter figures it all out too (dammit!). So in the meantime, I'll just sit here twiddling my thumbs and maybe, even quite possibly sending out a few threatening emails to some rather unsuspecting third graders.....