So, Santa, of course, showed up at our house.
I'd been trying for weeks to build up my two-year old. We talked about Santa, we talked about Christmas. My husband didn't like to talk about Santa because he felt like a big, fat fraud. I never felt like a fraud, though. I'm all about the metaphors and Santa freaking rocks.
Well, when Christmas morning came and I led my little boy out to see the Christmas tree I said, "Oh, look! Did Santa bring you presents?"
My two year old looked at me, all confused, then looked at his dad. "No," he concluded. "Mommy did."
But--maybe to make up for it--today when he was crying I said, "Kido, I love you so much. Do you know I love you? And lots of other people love you, too. Do you know who else loves you?"
I paused and my two year old answered, "I know! Santa . . . Santa Claus. He wubs me."
Long live the metaphors!
The Beautiful Life of Nora Pepper
2 days ago