I sit here thinking of what I should say.
Yesterday was the saddest day of the saddest day.
I sat with my little guy on the floor of Williams Sonoma as he weeped
He realized that Santa was not the magical Red Elf of the fairy tales.
But in fact a farce.
I thank God for my Catholic background
For at least I could tell him of the real St. Nick
But still my heart aches for this is my last baby.
My eyes leak with the sweetest and most precious memories of the joy of Santa Claus and all that silliness of the chimney and the naughty list.
I never actually talk about that stuff, he just picked it up from films.
My sweet little boy reached a right of passage.
Before I tucked him in last night we read Yes Virginia There Is A Santa Claus.
I cried with the first read and read it again because I did not want him to think it was a sad story.
It is a wonderful story and so very true.
The spirit of the season or giving is good and kind. It was taken and expanded upon by commercialism but if we look way back we can realize the first gift was the best gift.
A tiny little one, wrapped up and warm buy the best momma in the world. A little one that would one day give the greatest gift of all, his life for the world.
I hope I gave my little guy the best magical memories for his youth so that he will one day want to create magical memories for his little ones and the strength to know when it is time to let go of the Elfin magic and let the true magic shine through.