I have VIVID memories of Christmases past.
I remember driving the long drive (515 miles one way) from Mission to Dallas and Kaufman to see our grandparents. Peggy and I would plan weeks in advance what we were going to take to occupy us on the long drive .
(When we were younger Mother would have a sack of fun stuff that every hour or so she would put her hand in and pick out something... like a little note pad, or a little toy.)
And I remember going to sleep on the floor in Grandmother Ora’s living room on Christmas Eve and so not wanting to fall asleep. All I wanted was just a glimpse of Santa coming through the front door. I never got that glimpse... but he always came.
Then I remember that one Christmas our family decided to stay in Mission. Peggy and I were beside ourselves with worry that Santa wouldn’t know we had stayed home. Did he even know where we lived? How could he? (And we'd worked at being so good.) (Ah, but he found us.)
Then I remember - about a year and a half later - drying the dishes in the kitchen (I remember the exact spot where I was standing) and I asked Mother something like “Is Santa Claus real?”
And she told me.
Jeez. In a moment childhood was over.
Ah, but I loved believing ... and having those memories of believing.
What about you....
Did you believe in Santa?
If you did how did you find out the truth? (Or did you?)
Do you think it’s good or bad to let children believe in Santa?
If you don’t mind, please leave a comment answering one or all of those questions.
(My apologies to my kids for assuming they knew the truth - when, it turned out, they didn’t.)
(Parents: don’t assume anything.)