Last weekend, a moment of realization struck me. I paused to observe my children, simply lounging on the couch, and an undeniable truth dawned on me: they are all growing up. This year marks a significant milestone—the final year I’ll have a true “believer” in my home.
My youngest is still enveloped in that delightful innocence—a steadfast belief in Santa Claus and all things magical. How did I overlook that this might be our last holiday season filled with that wonder? His excitement bubbles over each morning as he leaps from bed, eager to find his Elf (who he genuinely believes is real). He even presented me with a meticulously crafted letter to Santa, complete with a sticker-and-glitter envelope. Yet, amidst my busy holiday to-do list, I failed to appreciate that he still holds onto this joy.
It seems to be the plight of the youngest child. By the time we reach the last kid, the holiday spirit can wane a bit. We’ve celebrated all the “firsts” and eagerly awaited those Amazon deliveries filled with toys, from train sets to pirate ships, all adorned with “From Santa!” tags. We’ve hosted festive cookie parties, sewn nativity costumes, and taken each child out for special holiday shopping trips. We’ve bought matching pajamas, driven around to admire Christmas lights, and created countdown chains in vibrant red and green.
But for the youngest, it often turns into something more like, “Want to shop for dad? Here’s my Amazon login. Christmas pajamas? There’s a box somewhere; I’m too tired to find it. Picture with Santa? Let’s just Photoshop you in. Toys? I’m not sure what you want—here’s a gift card. Lights? We have one strand on a tree outside.”
This morning, on our way to school, I got a reality check. My youngest, deep in thought, remarked, “You know, I still believe in Santa, but I’m not so sure about the reindeer anymore. I mean, the whole flying thing…”
My heart sank. That was it—the beginning of the end of his belief. I glanced in the rearview mirror, bracing myself for his older brother’s response. Would he be the one to shatter the magic? Instead, to my relief, he replied, “Of course they can fly! Santa feeds them magic reindeer food to give them that ability.”
My youngest beamed and responded, “Oh yeah, you must be right.”
In that moment, I decided that despite the overwhelming holiday responsibilities, I would seize this opportunity to create one last enchanting season for my youngest child. I vowed to dig out that elusive box of Christmas pajamas and to craft a fresh countdown chain. We would bake cookies for Santa, discuss the magic of reindeer food, and dream about sleighs big enough to deliver gifts to every child around the globe.
A year from now, it’s likely my youngest will have figured it all out. But for now, we’ll embrace the magic of Santa and hold onto our belief in wonder.
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In summary, cherish these fleeting moments of childhood wonder, as they are as precious as the memories we create along the way.