So despite the knowledge about the truth of Santa, Christmas marches on at our house with our usual traditions--cutting the tree, stockings out, wreath on the door.
Before the weather started to get colder, my youngest had as many lights and outdoor decorations in the front yard as he could manage. It's like he's been waiting all year for this. After negotiating with both mom and dad about the amount of lights, location and color (mostly white for mom, and in the bushes but not in the really big trees for dad), he wrangled it all into place with some help from dad.
Once the outdoors was decorated, it was time to dive into the indoor decorations. i'm a fan of snowmen. And after being out for an evening, I came home to a snowman filled house. My kid managed to find even those that were no longer among my favorites--that I'd hidden away in the basement.
Earlier this week it was St. Nick's Day. As my youngest hung the stockings by the first place, he asked "What about St. Nick, is he real?" I'd already felt bad about the Santa revelation, so I simply said, "He's as real as you want him to be." He simply nodded with a small smile, almost like he was reassured that there would be treats from St. Nick. And in the morning, just a satisfied smile as he sat among his goodies. "This is great," he exclaimed.
Tonight, it was tree decorating night. And my youngest worked so hard to get every ornament into just the right place--even telling me I wasn't putting things in just the right spot. Now in the afterglow of the bright lights--he's done a stupendous job making it look just right.
Now as we sit in the dark and look at the tree, I marvel at how the magic in our holiday seems to continue to come from my youngest. How the roles have been reversed.
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