Late last year I had to have the talk with our oldest son. It was the dreaded…”I am Santa, I am the Tooth Fairy…and did you really think there was a giant bunny running amok with baskets filled with candy each year” talk. It was not a pretty sight but thankfully he had figured most of it out himself and was waiting on my confirmation because he was afraid his gifts would stop if he admitted he did not believe.
All was well in the land of motherhood falsehoods. I had come through with hardly a scratch of distrust. At least I thought I had.
Jump to a few weeks ago and our annual “Breakfast with Santa” morning. I had explained to my oldest son that even though there was no “Santa” there was the magic of Santa. The magic of Santa was all of the hard work that went into making sure a child believes, the cookies, the buying of just the right gift, the traditional reindeer food, all of the little things we did that brought a smile to their lips and a sparkle to their eyes on Christmas morning. He jumped on board with lots of new ideas for his little brother and I thought we were headed down the right path.
Until the actually “sitting on Santa’s lap and asking for a toy” moment. He chose to stand next to the big guy and that was fine. Our little guy asked for a “Wappy Dog” (please don’t ask me to explain) and then Santa (our longtime faithful friend who plays the big guy each year) turned his head toward our oldest son and asked “What do you want this year?”
At that moment there was that sparkle in my son’s eyes and that smile touched his lips as he calmly told Santa he wanted a Red Mustang with black racing stripes. My mouth fell open, my heart stopped. There has NEVER been a year that Santa did not deliver exactly what was asked for (thanks to my early inspiration that the boys only ask for one gift from Santa). We have stood in long lines, we have braved the elements, we have held our breath for deliveries but we have always been able to place the requested toy under the tree come Christmas morn’. And, now in that fateful swoop of youthful arrogance our son had put us on notice…he knew the secret and he was not afraid to use it as leverage. The little punk!
After my initial shock that he would be so brave as to challenge me I laughed because I remembered I had a partner in crime…he had not only challenged me but he had challenged my HoneyBee! Oh, that was a bad move but he is just too young to realize that his Dad has never lost a challenge.
So, in great fatherly fashion my HoneyBee has purchased a model Mustang that will be sitting in our driveway with a red ribbon on it Christmas morn’. And, under the tree it typical motherly manner will be a cute jar with a Hot Wheel Car on top of it labeled “SmartBee’s Car Fund.”
Take that Dear Son!
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