It started out simply enough. A kid on the bus had told Zoe that Santa and the Easter Bunny aren't real. "But they are, aren't they, Mama?" she said. "I know because you wouldn't lie to me."
"Oh shit," I thought to myself. I was prepared to continue with the subterfuge until she played the lying card. But that was serious. You can't continue to lie to your child after she calls you on it. I just sort of stared at her, frozen in indecision.
"They are real, right?" she tried again.
I had to make a choice, and quick.
"The spirit of Santa is definitely real," I said, pleased with myself for my quick thinking.
"But the presents, Mama. Who brings the presents? It's not like YOU'RE putting the gifts in the stockings and hiding Easter eggs. . ." Her eyes filled with tears as she realized what she was saying.
And really, things went downhill from there. Zoe cried like her whole world had been ripped apart. I was hoping the realization that she was in on the big grown-up secret would make her feel better. But no. She simply took a mental inventory of everything Santa had ever given her, and the memory of each special gift was like a punch in the gut. I haven't seen that child cry that hard in a L O N G time.
And all that misery was brought to her by ME.
I need a really strong drink . . . or a time machine. If we could just go back to 8:03 tonight, everything would be fine.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
3 comments:
well... life does tend to be one big disappointment after another - but there's no reason they need to start down that road quite so early ;)
still - you gave the right answer...
though - i'd remind you that in iceland, a country of 99.8 percent literacy, a significant portion of the population believes in elves - and you can even take 'elf studies' at university.
and here, in the forest, in the spring down by the creek at dusk, you can spot the fairies if you're quick...
sure, the world is a little less magical without giant bunnies delivering colored eggs... but there's always furry conventions.
So long as you can wait until Friday, I think the strong drink can be arranged.
I have a very cynical reponse to this that pretty much proves I'm not parenting material, but I'll keep that to myself. I do think it is adorable that she calls you "mama."
Well, we thought "Mrs. Czarnecki" was a little bit formal, so we went with "mama" instead.
Post a Comment