The Magic of Santa

Santa is wonderful. I do not understand parents who choose not to bring their children up believing in his magic. He has played such a great role in my life and the lives of my children.

When I was little, I remember the whole idea of Santa - his house at the North Pole, his elves, his reindeer, his coming down MY chimney, his letters left at the hearth thanking us for the cookies and milk as one of the great treasures of the world! I would pray Christmas Eve night to please, please make me go to sleep so that he could come (since everyone knows Santa can't come until you're asleep). The poem "Twas the Night Before Christmas" was not a poem at all, but rather a first hand experience - no an evidence - that Santa did come! As if I needed evidence. Santa just was. Everyone knew it. After all, presents that were not there when the whole family went to bed the night before were there! How else could it be explained. As if I needed an explanation. Santa just was real. One of the wonderful, magical facts of life.

One of the greatest joys of my parenthood was creating the reality of Santa for my girls. I remember telling them when the twins were 3 and Amanda was 5, that if they woke up and found new slippers on the floor by their beds it meant that Santa had come and they could get up and have a look. The next morning Amanda came running into our room gleefully showing us her new slippers: "He came!! He came!! Get up, he came!" The twins were still a little young to understand it all so I went into their room where they was sitting on their beds with smiles knowing that something wonderful was happening, but not sure exactly what. "Look Christine," I said, picking up her slippers to show her. I had gotten them little Disney slippers - the toes of which had little Minnie Mouse heads on them. "Look what Santa left for you". And then, her precious little face lit up with her famous smile. She looked at them and then at me and I could see she felt the magic, the love and the wonder of it all and I will never forget that moment as long as I live because I thought to myself: "I gave my babies this".

For years Santa came to our house the week before Christmas. Sometimes Mrs. Claus came

too. We would tell him in advance some of the girls' accomplishments and activities so he was able to come in and talk to them of it. This just solidified to them that he really did "know when they'd been bad or good" and at Christmas time I could always count on exceptional cooperation from them. Santa and Mrs Clause would talk to the girls and sing songs with them. They'd always read a story and give them a candy cane. They would tell them all the news of the North Pole like which reindeer was not feeling too well, which elf won employee of the year. It was fascinating. But every year Amanda would beg to see the reindeer. Santa always had to come up with a good reason for her not being able to see them. Fortunately we live at the top of a hill so the reindeer usually stayed at the base of the hill to graze on neighbor's grass (we didn't have much for them at our place). One year, shortly after Santa and Mrs. Claus left our home, I happened to see in the black sky outside our living room window the flashing red light of a distant airplane. "Look girls!" I shouted. "Come see - there's Rudolf!!" Oh my gosh - they squealed with delight, jumping up and down, they screamed "There's Rudolf! There's Rudolf! There's Santa flying away. Bye Santa!" They ran around the house and danced and sang. They could not believe their good fortune for having actually seen Santa and his reindeer flying through the air.

When Grace was born, the girls only had about a year of believing left in them so we all focused on Grace and made sure she got all the same experiences for the next several years. (Except Santa didn't come to the house anymore because as wonderful as Santa and Mrs. Claus are, they don't come cheap!) But one day near her 7th Christmas she announced she didn't believe in Santa. Most of her classmates didn't believe and she had figured out that reindeer could not, in fact, fly, nor could Santa get his fat self down a chimney. I for one was not ready for my baby to give up on Santa. We had been invited to a friend's Christmas Eve party and they were to have the best Santa appearing that night. I told Grace that the real Santa would be there and that she should reserve her judgement until she saw him. She just rolled her eyes.

Later at the party, Santa held court and read and talked and Grace just sat there staring at him suspiciously with her arms folded. When he asked if anyone had any questions, her arm shot up. He looked at her and said: "What do you want to ask Santa?" She replied (with a "prove it" tone in her voice), arms still folded across her chest: "How do reindeer fly?" He drew her right up in front of him and we snapped this photo of his response to her. "Do you believe in me?", he asked. Grace reluctantly nodded her head. "That's what makes reindeer fly!" And that was all she had to hear - he was real to her all over again. And it made Bob tear up. Me too.

So Grace is 10 now and the girls are all grown up and this is the first year in nearly 20 that Santa is not coming to our house. It is strange. But I know he'll be back when the girls have their own children. And hopefully they will draw upon their own magical memories to be able to start it up all over again. I may leave out milk and cookies anyway. Wouldn't it be marvelous if there was a note waiting for me in the morning?