The Jig, As They Say...

So it's that time of year again...the time of year when you can demand good behavior out of your children with the mention of three simple words: "Santa is watching."

Such powerful words. Their utterance saves me so much time and aggravation trying to teach lessons of right and wrong. They hold so much promise, and also fear. I mean, what kid in their right mind wants to tangle with Santa Claus?

This afternoon I wielded this mighty weapon of enforcement for the season's first time. It was on the way to - well, where else am I ever going? The Y, of course - and a scuffle was breaking out in the back seat. One sister placed her personal belongings on the seat of the other sister, and said belongings were promptly launched back. Cross words were exchanged. As I spotted the trajectory of one of these belongings - possibly a book of some sort - cutting through the air on its way to strike someone on the head, I acted fast. "You know, Santa can see what you're doing right this very second." The object froze in midair.

And then, Fifth Grader said, "Oh, Santa." She said it in that way, you know...I nonchalantly turned around to face her, giving away nothing. Third Grader sat quietly, frozen in a state of Santa-induced compliance. I began to turn back around when Fifth Grader caught my eye and silently mouthed, "I know."

We had a moment alone before she went into the building - her sister long gone, running to catch up to a friend - and I must tell you, I wasn't sure what to say. So I said, ever so quietly, "What do you know?"

"I know," she quietly said back. " I know about Santa." She smiled at me with all the love and realization that I'd hoped she would whenever this moment eventually played out. Then she added, "I promise I won't tell my sister." And she was out the door.

Oh, sad, sad day. And happy day as well. Being Santa is one of those things that I fantasized about in the rare moments of my pre-parent life that I imagined myself with kids. (Trust me, there weren't a lot of moments that I actually imagined being a mother.) It is every bit as exciting and magical and aggravating and stressful as I pictured it would be. I confess that I have lately, at times, hoped that this would be the year she realized, if only to cut down on the work involved. Now that it's happened, I'm overcome with a strange sense of determination to keep Santa going. Not in the same way - well, partly in the same way, for Third Grader - but with the intention of keeping the season magical in her heart. Everyone needs magic in their heart, no matter what they believe. And now she can participate in that process a little bit, which I think will only make it that much more special for both of us.

In the end it's just one more bittersweet reminder that she's growing up. It's beautiful and awful all at the same time. And so much more lies ahead. I am thankful, though, that I have the privilege of knowing her heart, at least for now. Hopefully, if I do my job well, I will always have at least a window view.