Well, The Jig Is Up Folks

I can't say I didn't see it coming. Last year Peanut expressed doubt that a man could make reindeer fly and deliver toys to all the children in the world in one night.

We pretended we didn't hear her.

Then on Christmas morning, their "Santa" gifts were clearly and professionally labeled "To: Sissy or Peanut From: Santa ". That way, each girl knew which gifts were hers, and there was no suspiciously familiar handwriting on the tags.
Yes, Santa was feeling pret-tee clever. That new labelmaker she had received from her parents on Christmas Eve was already proving itself useful. And the kids had been so busy opening THEIR gifts from the grandparents that they didn't even pay attention to the gifts everyone else got. Or so Santa thought. Until, on Christmas morning, Sissy casually observed that their gift tags from Santa looked a lot like they had been printed with Mommy's new labelmaker.

These kids today. They never fail to amaze Santa.

Anyway, the subject was dropped for the next eleven months. Then, a few weeks ago, out of the blue, Peanut asked me point -blank: "Is Santa really you?" After stalling for a few seconds, I decided a direct question deserved a direct answer, and confessed. She and Sissy both laughed, but it was ambivalent laughter, and hearing it made me die just a little.

It's really kind of a relief that they know, since we've struggled with the Santa issue in the past, as I've blogged about before.
But it's also another sign that my babies are growing up, and that realization always kills me.

Like tonight in the mall when we walked by the coin operated kiddie cars and and Peanut laughed as she remembered how she used to liked to ride them "when she was little". It's been less than a year since the last time she begged me to stop and let her ride. Tonight I thought of the many times I said "no" because I was in too big a hurry, or just didn't feel like digging around for fifty cents. And I died just a little.

Lately, it seems my most desperate prayer is "Lord, please slow it down. Please don't let them keep growing up so fast. "

But it's unavoidable. And so, in our house 2008 will be the year we officially stopped believing in Santa Claus.

Deep down I know it's a good thing. But I'm still dyin'.