Are You Santa Claus?

I'm pretty sure that if you had asked me a few months ago, I would have thought that talking to my kids about sex would be worse that talking to them about Santa Claus. Now, having recently had both of these conversations, I can say for a fact that the talk about Santa Claus is far worse.

Yesterday, I took each of the girls out shopping for Christmas gifts for each other.  Emma and I went out around lunch time, so we stopped at Qdoba for lunch before shopping.  So, I'm sitting there enjoying my quesadilla when she decides we need to have this serious conversation.  If I had known what was about to happen, I would have perhaps picked a more secluded table and not a booth next to the soda fountain.

Emma: Mom, are you the Tooth Fairy?

Me: Why do you think I am the Tooth Fairy?

Emma: Well, remember when I lost my last tooth.  When I woke up, there wasn't anything from the Tooth Fairy.  I was pretending to sleep and I saw you come in and put money on my bed.  [Side note: Brian forgot the night before to play Tooth Fairy.]

Me: Well, sometimes  Moms and Dads have to help out the Tooth Fairy because she gets too busy, she just can't make it to all the houses in one night.

Emma: Well, she is just one little fairy, although, I thought there was more than one.  Well, are you the Easter Bunny?

Me: The Easter Bunny?!  Why would I be the Easter Bunny?

Emma: I need you to tell me the truth.  Are you Santa Claus?

Me: Do you think I am Santa Claus?

Emma (tearing up): I don't know that's why I am asking you.  You're an adult and adults can't lie, so you have to tell me the truth.

Me (tearing up): Are you the only kid in your class that believes in Santa Claus?

Emma (on the verge of tears): Yes.  No one else believes, not even Hannah.

Me: What about Alexa?

Emma: I don't know about her.  Do you have the letter that I left for Santa last year?

Me (tears flowing and unable to answer)

Emma (crying): I think you are Santa.  Why did you lie to me when I asked you the other day?  I guess I shouldn't have written those letters to Santa, Mrs. Claus and the Elf.  You know, I've already written them for this year. [Insert knife in my heart!] I even made the envelopes.  I put glue on them, let it dry, and then licked them.  I guess I can just throw them away.  You lied to me and you are so mean.  I wanted to believe in Santa.

Me: If you want to believe in Santa, you can.  He is real, if you believe it.

Emma: You're Santa.  You're the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy.  You lied to me.  Every time I asked you, you lied to me.  Why did you lie to me?  I do want to believe in Santa.  [Poor kid is looking absolutely heartbroken and going back and forth between wanting to believe and being shocked that I lied to her.]

At this point, I am at a loss for words and about to break out in a major sobs in the middle of Qdoba. Meanwhile, people are filling up their drinks and looking at the two of us like we are crazy.  I try to explain that Santa was about the spirit of Christmas, love, and giving and all that jazz, but I am doing an awful job.  I am so heartbroken for Emma and she is so visibly upset about Santa and her lying mother.  Then, I remember this letter to a kid about Santa that I read once on Pinterest, so I decide to show it to Emma.  (Yes, I was really in over my head at this point.)

The letter is really sweet about Santa and needing to believe in things that you can't see.  Blah...blah...blah.  Emma reads it and says, "Well, now I know and I want to forget.  I am just going to go over here and beat my head against the wall."  I felt so awful for her.  The thing that I absolutely love about Emma is she is such a great kid who doesn't generally get caught up in the latest trends, but really just enjoys being a kid. She isn't interested in the clothes, makeup and pop stars like many of the other tweens.  She is happy to play with her dolls and dream about being a pioneer like Laura Ingalls Wilder.  I really hate that kids are forced to grow up so fast that even when they have a kid's heart, you can't protect it.

Emma: I don't understand how you can be Santa.  I mean, you're always broke, right?

Me: Pretty much.

Emma: Well, last year, Santa brought two American Girl dolls, a bike, and a ride on toy for Ella.  That must have been $400.  How can you afford that? (Pause.)  Mom, did you steal that stuff from the store?  Maybe you just help Santa.  He does have a big sleigh and wouldn't need as much help as the Tooth Fairy.  Santa must have helped you some because there is no way you could buy all that stuff.

I had to laugh at that last part, but the rest of the conversation left me feeling a little heartbroken.  I feel like it knocked the Christmas spirit right out of me.  I never imagined before what it would be like to tell the girls about Santa, but it feels awful.  It's like stealing someone's joy and seeing their childhood dreams come crashing down all at once....all that sweet, innocent and adorable imagination of childhood.

Yep, I would gladly talk about how babies are made over Santa Claus.