Well, SIP is a thinker and he usually makes his big wish known in the springtime so that Santa will have plenty of time to prepare. This past spring, SIP announced that this year for Christmas he would like to have a -....... (dramatic pause here)..........- LAB. Not a Labrador but a laboratory. And he didn't mean a kit that comes in a box with a beaker and Alka-Seltzers. He meant the real deal, Jimmy Neutron and Johnny Test style, a full-on lab equipped with real plutonium and a sidekick robot.
Sooooo, this could mean only one thing - it was time for SIP to know the truth about Santa. In October, one night at the dinner table as we sat surrounded by spooky decorations, I gazed at the red Jello brain centerpiece and felt the imminent weight of the holidays on my shoulders. It was the night for the talk I had been dreading ever since I got myself into this big web of holiday hero lies when SIP was a toddler. I wished I had never succumbed to the social pressure, never created this horrible precedent that I knew would ultimately break the sacred bond of trust between me and my child. But it was done, and I had to see it through to the heart breaking end.
I gave my husband the "eye" and reading my mind, he nodded his head in solemn approval. I went on to explain to SIP that St. Nick was a real person, a great man and that he is real. All of that was true. But he didn't live in the North Pole with elves, instead he lives in Heaven with God and Jesus and the angels. We associate him with toys because he is most known for his generosity to orphans and widows. In effect, Santa did not come to our house and houses all over the world with toys on Christmas Eve. Moms and dads and loved ones do those things for one another in honor of St. Nick's charity and in celebration of the birth of Jesus who received gifts from the wise men.
I talked and watched my beautiful boy's face as he took in this new truth that would force him to grow up that night. I will never forget watching the little light in his eyes go dim. He accepted the information like a champ and seemed a bit relieved to know the truth. He even thanked us for the very special gifts that he believed Santa had brought, an unexpected and sweet thing. Over the next few days as holiday catalogues came in the mail and signs went up all over town, the gravity of the situation fell on him. He was most disappointed about the Elf on the Shelf, but not too surprised about the Easter Bunny, "That," he said, "always seemed ridiculous."
It has been a bitter sweet time for me as a mother, mostly just because he's growing up and I love him so much that I miss him even when he's sitting next to me. I miss each second as it passes. A couple of days ago we headed to the Economy Feed store on Carolyn Street past Bay Street in Savannah to get some food for our chickens. The charming and quaint feed store is located in an impoverished neighborhood more commonly know as the "ghetto." Just ahead of the store, we came upon two young men, around fourteen years of age, in an all-out brawl. I had never seen such a terrible fight in-person in my life. There was a third boy videoing the altercation with his phone. I pulled over, rolled down my window and yelled, "Cut it Out!" So if you see the fight on YouTube, I'm the crazy white lady shouting from her green Subaru Forester. I'm pretty sure I also said, "I don't want to have to call the police!" The boy with the phone then tried to break it up, but it was no use. They threw one punch after another and ended up in a tangled mess on the ground. Neighbors started coming out of their houses and walking over and finally a man in his thirties was able to get them under control.
I gave the good Samaritan a friendly wave and went on to Economy. I wasn't sure what to say to SIP about the whole thing, but he had it covered. "Mom," he said, "I bet I know why those boys were fighting." He spoke in his all-knowing tone he gets when he lectures and I readied myself for a seven-year-old's perspective on race relations, the impact of poverty and other social issues. "Oh?" I said, "Why do you think they were fighting?" "It's obvious," he said, "They want to be wrestlers when they grow up."
It was as though the Lord held me in his arms and kissed my forehead. My boy was still a child and what a gift I had been given that day. "Maybe so," I replied and went to work thinking about how I was going to turn the outside shed into a proper lab before Christmas.
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