I believe in Santa Claus. I cringe whenever I watch a Christmas special and they talk about not believing in Santa Claus. I encourage this belief in the Father of Christmas. Oldest is the perfect age for all of this, 4.5. Middle does everything that Oldest does so he is into it too. Baby just rips all the ornaments off the tree and unplugs the lights, incessantly.
We put out reindeer food and tomorrow night we will put out cookies and a glass of juice. After they go to bed we will wrap all of their presents and place them under the tree. It is a magical time. A short magical time in a child's life and I want my children to experience everything magical. Before I know it they won't believe any more. Oldest is running around with a Silver Bell around her neck, just like from the Polar Express. "It came from a reindeer's collar," she tells me. How could I not encourage this wonderfully delightful expression of innocence?
When we watch the Christmas classic, "The Year Without a Santa Claus" and the doctor tells Santa that no one cares about Christmas any more, Oldest and I look at each other and declare, "We care!" "Right Dad, we care!" "We do care, because it is Jesus's birthday," she yells.