When the girls arrived they were so
naive and sheltered from the Western world it was easy to make them believe in
Santa Claus. I told them all the same things I heard as a child, about, yes
he looks like Santa but it is just his helper and yes he has hundreds of
helpers. I had them sit down and write Santa a letter there first year here.
They worried that they could not speak or write English and Santa would not
understand them. I ensured them that he spoke many
languages and could read their letters. It was so interesting to watch them
think of what they wanted for Christmas when they never had a Christmas like
ours. After the first Christmas I was presented with the question if Santa
speaks all languages why doesn't he come to their country. Some quick thinking
on my part: “Well did you ever write him a letter? Their response
was no one told them that they needed to so they could get presents. In my
sarcastic sense of humor I said “there was nothing I could do about that”.
So now if you write he knows where you’re at and will bring presents. The next
Christmas came and English was better so the letters became more detailed and
wish list was much longer, and need I say the cost of said list was going to
bankrupt me. I assumed that at any given moment some kids at school would learn
they believed in Santa and promptly tell them it your parents. The girls
were skeptical last year but replacing the souvenir snow ball from Split Rock
Light house which was a feet all of its own , got me one more year with them
still believing at their ages. Maybe I was just more proud of myself for
the ability to keep them believing. My oldest daughter many times came close to
telling or letting the cat out the bag as it were. When asked why she did
not write letters to Santa she replied he does not like me. Not the answer I
would use but it worked. The other night we had another, is there really a
Santa Clause conversation. When the older one says I don't really believe
in Santa anymore and then the youngest piped up and said “ya, I know you ate
the cookies and drank the milk last year”. I quickly reminded them I
don't eat sweets but the swiftness of her reply was as if she knew what I would
say and was ready with a comeback of, but you drink milk and Uncle Jimmy likes
cookies. OK ya got me there. My rebuttal was not to be heard and she just
knew it was us. After a long pause she said “If I put some poison in the
milk and cookies I will know who Santa is because they will be sick.” The
laughter grew as images of a dead Santa laying in the back yard and my brother
hanging over the porcelain god of the wash room flashed through my
head. I still have not admitted to the truth but they tell me they will write a
letter again just in case.
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