I have two sons. They are as different as night and day. Which seems to be how most two child families are organized personality-wise. My youngest is sweet, loveable, easy-going, and finds joy in everything. My oldest we’ve nicknamed the “Evil Genius.” He knows exactly what he wants and if there is deviation from his expectations let’s just say he know how to bring the pain. My oldest is ambitious , self-confident, and suffers no fools. Given his strong personality he doesn’t like surprises, not understanding things, and he has been known on several occasions to tell me to “cut to the chase.” Sometimes I feel like I am living with a thirty-five-year-old investment banker.
I am giving you all this background to try to gain your sympathy before I reveal the colossal mistake I made last year. I’m hoping by painting a full picture of my oldest you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me for making the mother of all mistakes. Nobody hates me more than I do. Truly.
Last year my Evil Genius was in third grade and my youngest was in first. Right around this time of year whenever we mentioned Santa my husband and I were rewarded with major eye rolling and deep sighs from my oldest. At first we both tried to ignore it, until one night my husband said to me, “Is it just me or does Jack know that Santa isn’t real anymore?”
So there it was. We both knew that our eldest had finally figured out the big secret. I wasn’t really surprised given who my son is. But I’d be damned if he was going to ruin it for his six-year-old brother who had plenty of Santa-loving years ahead of him. I looked my husband in the eye and said, “I’ll handle this.” to which he responded “Okay just be careful because I’m not sure he knows – he might just be acting like it.” But I knew. And I had it in my mind that he was about to crush his younger brothers spirit and break the news to him. My son the no-nonsense realist was going to rip the Christmas spirit away from my sweet innocent youngest and stomp all over it. I had to protect him. I needed to control this now before it got out of control. I rushed into the play room where my oldest was playing – alone, thank God. I closed the door behind me and started out by telling him that there was something I wanted to speak with him about. Then I looked him dead in the eyes and said (forgive me, subtlety is not my strong suit), “Well you know how Santa isn’t real, right?” And as I stared at my eight-year-old son for what seemed like an eternity of silence his eyes started to fill with tears. Oh holy hell. Oh holy hell!!! Oh dear seven pound eight ounce baby Jesus. Finally as a tear trickled down his cheek he squeaked out, “He’s not?” Oh holy hell!
As I stammered out my lame attempt at recovery that went something like, “Um well it’s not that he’s not real (shut up you idiot – stop saying he’s not real), but he doesn’t really make and deliver all the toys. Dad and I get some of them for you. So he’s real he’s just get’s a little help from us.”
The Evil Genius wasn’t buying it. He just sat there looking at me with an expression that if there had been a thought bubble above his head would have said , “WTF, really mom?”
You know when you make a terrible mistake but you can’t stop yourself from making it worse? That was me. Because I just had to know. I had to know why he had seemed to be over Santa. So I asked him why he rolled his eyes and sighed every time his father and I mentioned Santa. To which he replied that kids at school had been saying Santa wasn’t real but that he still thought he was. And there it was. The truth. He didn’t want to seem to be duped by the Santa-hype but he wasn’t ready to let go. You know, until I forcibly threw him off the Santa cliff. Like the worst mother in the world.
But my eyes had been opened. And I won’t make that mistake again. Because what I realized is that our kids are going to seem to be in a huge rush to grow up. They are going to want to look cool in front of their friends. They are going to act like bigger kids than they are. But at the end of the day they are still young and vulnerable and kids at heart. And as parents we need to help them hold onto that for as long as we possibly can. Because with Instagram and Twitter and the Internet and a million other forces pushing them to grow up we need to create a safe space for them to be kids. We need to help them hold onto that innocent sweet part of themselves that they all have deep down. Even Evil Geniuses.
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