Hedging Her Bets

Last night, "Wife", "Daughter" and I loaded ourselves into the trusty Trailbalzer and headed to the mall. No, we weren't going to set our credit cards on fire doing some last minute Christmas shopping,we were going to pay our yearly visit to the one and only, the man in red, Santa Claus.

This has been a rough Christmas for "Daughter". She's 10, and in fifth grade. A lot of her friends have stopped believing in the big guy and peer pressure is starting to get to her. I see her struggling with the decision, afraid to let go, but more afraid of being called a baby by her friends. She wants to keep believing, figuring that's the best route to a great Christmas haul, but the nay sayers are getting louder by the day. I know she's afraid to give up on Santa, because what if she's wrong? As my dad used to say, "he who believeth, receiveth." "Wife" and I have been sensing her apprehension, so we haven't pushed the issue of a visit. We mentioned it in passing a couple times, but yesterday I had to throw down the gauntlet. I realized that Christmas was almost here and that our free time to head to the mall was limited. "Wife" is scheduled to begin her annual Christmas baking free for all tonight and that usually lasts a couple days. By the time the flour clears, Christmas will be here. Before "Daughter" left for school, I laid it on the line. "If you want to see Santa," I said without judgment, "we have to go tonight. Think about it at school and let me know." "Daughter" got home and somewhat hesitantly informed me that she did indeed want to check out Father Christmas' action.

"Wife" thought that since it was a week night, Santa would be sitting all alone waiting for us to pop in for a little visit. Sometimes "Wife's" naivete amuses me. There was quite a line to see old Kris Kringle. The human rope snaked around Santa's area and stretched down to Victoria's Secret. Not a bad place to stand for awhile, but I digress. I could tell "Daughter" was preoccupied while she waited. There were a lot of little kids in line, and she was easily one of the oldest. She tried to cover her nervousness with small talk about school and where we would eat dinner when this chore was finished. I tried to joke with her about not crying or peeing on Santa's lap, but alas, my razor sharp wit could not cut through her concern. I could tell she was keeping an eye out for anyone she might know from school. A sighting by one of her classmates could make for difficult times in the lunch room. We finally got to the front of the line, and "Daughter" had resigned herself to saying hi to Father Christmas. We got her to smile for a picture, that really was just for us. Santa did a good job. He sensed that "Daughter" was uncomfortable, and not just from having to sit on some old man's lap, so he made a few jokes about the thing she asked him for. "Daughter" only asked Santa for one thing. That's how she rolls. She told us, "you ask this Santa for one thing because he's not the real Santa. The rest of your list you send to the North Pole." She's got all the angles figured. She and Santa finished their little conference and the visit was over. She smiled when we left. I think she was a little relieved.

I was glad "Daughter" decided to visit Santa. I have a feeling that last night was the end of that chapter of our lives. For ten years I've watched as "Daughter's" eyes got wide with excitement when she saw Santa. Even the couple years she cried are remembered fondly and laughed about as we look at the pictures. We can remember the various mall Santas and the quality of their artificial beards as we see how she's grown. Kids seem to grow up so fast, and part of that growing means a loss of some of the magic that makes being a kid so much fun. One of these days, Santa won't mean as much to "Daughter" as he once did. I feel bad about that, even though I know it's inevitable. I wish there were some truths your kid didn't have to learn so soon. I don't think it makes you a baby to believe in Santa Claus. I think it makes you a girl who wants to hold on to the magic a little bit more. Later...Brian