Christmas 2019

30 Dec

We (Mike) told Michaela Santa isn’t real several months ago. He didn’t beat around the bush with it and Michaela seemed to understand what he was saying.

That’s why it was a surprise when, on Christmas Eve, Michaela was insistent that we put out cookies for Santa and carrots for the reindeer. She made a lot of comments about Santa coming, and they seemed sincere. Mike and I were left whispering to each other, “does she think Santa is real? Even though we told her? What’s going on here?!?”

After Michaela went to bed, we did all the things parents do, like eating the cookies and nibbling on the carrots, as well as, in Mike’s case, assembling a new bike.

Michaela woke up on Christmas morning excited to see the new bike waiting for her. She confessed that she’d gone to that bathroom around 3 a.m. and saw the bike was there, so she knew Santa had been there.

We had a lovely day, opening gobs of presents, eating Mike’s homemade-from-scratch-knockoff-Cinnabon cinnamon rolls (and delivering some to our neighbors, too!), having brunch with family (my brother and parents, and Mike’s mom and stepdad, who were visiting from Colorado), and having dinner with a family friend who is stationed at Camp Pendleton while his family is in Montana. It was a great day, but one that didn’t resolve the “does Michaela really believe in Santa Claus” mystery.

A couple of days after Christmas, Santa came up while I was driving Michaela home from a friend’s birthday party. I casually said, “Some people know that Santa isn’t real but still like to believe. Do you know anyone like that?” And she confessed that yes, she fits that bill. Then we had a lovely talk about how fun it is to be surprised with big presents, and that it’s fun to be the magic for other people.

The best part was that Michaela confessed that, after the presents had been opened on Christmas and she went to the garage to sharpen some new colored pencils she got (she asked for a pack of pencils that come in different flesh tones; gotta love my multicultural kid!), she saw the bike box in the garage. She swore me to secrecy, told me I couldn’t tell Mike, because she didn’t want to ruin the magic for him.

Hope your Christmas was similarly beautiful!

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