Thanks a lot, Judy Blume

I don't specifically remember when I discovered the truth about the Big Three: Santa Claus, The Tooth Fairy, and The Easter Bunny. Being a kid that was raised in a Jewish identified house, you'd think the last one wasn't an issue. But it was.

There is 8mm footage of me at a very young age, holding a toy guitar I received in an Easter basket. I am looking into the camera, smiling, and saying, "Mom is that you?" (or something along those lines). My mother was an equal opportunity holiday celebrant. She embraced most of the big holidays in both the Catholic and Jewish religion. She likes to give and get presents; that may have something to do with it. There are also pictures of me during Christmas, a nicely decorated tree in the background, and presents galore all around. While there is not any footage or pictures, I have memories of losing my teeth, and the excitement that went with wrapping them in tissue, and putting them under my pillow. I think the most we ever got was $1, but my memory points more toward a quarter.

There must have been a time when I discovered the truth behind these national/international traditions. Maybe it was one or both of my brothers. Maybe it was a friend from school. Either way, I was not scarred for life when the new found knowledge entered my conscious.

When Frederic was born, Cyndi was very against telling him about Santa Claus. Her issue was that she did not want to begin our relationship with our children steeped in a lie. But as time passed, and it got closer to his first Christmas, the joy we saw in his face made the decision for us. Over the years, as he's gotten older, he's asked if we were the Big Guy. And we've been successful at keeping the myth alive. Since the kids are homeschooled, they are not presented with the opportunity to dispel such things in their day-to-day activities. We don't shelter them, by no means, but there are fewer chances of these things happening.

Today, it happened.

Frederic is a big reader. If he has a free moment, his head is typically in a book. Today's book of choice, "Superfudge," by Judy Blume.

Chapter 10: "Santa Who?"

Page 139: "How can a kid who knows where babies come from still believe in Santa?"

Enter Frederic, smirking: "Dad, is Santa real?"

Inner thoughts of me: "Keep calm...don't respond to his smirk...look away, look away..."

Frederic: "Well?"

Logical me (so I think): "Do you think Santa is real?"

Frederic: "No."

Panicking me: "Why's that?"

Smirking Frederic: "See." Hands me the book. I read it. Tell him to wait a moment. Confirm with Cyndi that, it's time, and have a private conversation with him in my office (away from Lily), which goes much better than I thought.

He understands that it's the spirit of Santa Claus we were trying to convey. He understands that we should keep up the fun for Lily. He realizes he will still get presents if he does this. He feels like he is now, "in the know." He didn't even cry.

About an hour later, he's in our bedroom, on our bed, reading.

Contemplative Frederic: "Dad...what about the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy?"

Damn.

The thing I find really interesting is the fact that he totally glossed over the following words, "How can a kid who knows where babies come from..."

I don't think my 39.9.14 year old heart can take that conversation yet...