I have a good friend who is the mother of two young children, four year olds who are firm believers in Santa. I thought of her as we were both playing Santa last night. I could very well imagine children so excited for Santa that they could barely lie still in their beds, let alone sleep. It wasn’t so long ago that I had a small child who was thrilled beyond measure at the prospect of Santa leaving him surprises on the red bench at the foot of the stairs.
As E played Santa for four year olds, I played Santa for a 16 year old who was wide awake and talking with his friends via the app du jour. I played Santa and then tucked into bed, advising JT to stay upstairs for the rest of the night to preserve his Christmas morning surprises.
As E played Santa for four year olds, I played Santa for a 16 year old who was wide awake and talking with his friends via the app du jour. I played Santa and then tucked into bed, advising JT to stay upstairs for the rest of the night to preserve his Christmas morning surprises.
I’ve long believed that Christmas morning makes up for the times when being a parent is hard. I still believe that’s true, even when it's your 16 year old taking joy in Santa’s generosity.
The magic is different, but the blessings are the same: the smile of a child who receives a gift that shows how well he is known and loved. The pleasure of being told “thank you” by a 16 year old who is well-aware of his blessings isn’t the same as the unvarnished joy of a four year old. But though it’s different, it’s no less rewarding. We are lucky and blessed and happy to say so.
I’ll take it.
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