Though a perfectionist, in most aspects of my life, I prefer to just get it done, as opposed to a perfectly adorned package. Well, at least where presents are concerned.
As I cut, folded, and taped, I got lost in my own thoughts. I recalled the time when W. recognized that his gifts from Santa were wrapped in the paper that I had purchased from Target a few days earlier.
"Mommy, you must be Santa because you wrapped these!" He accused.
I, a true Believer who will NEVER, willingly, admit to any child that Santa is a fake, quickly concocted a story to ease his mind.
"I buy the wrapping paper for Santa," I explained. "If he put wrapped gifts on a sleigh and then flew them all around the world they'd be torn to shreds!"
He looked at me suspiciously, "He can't have enough time to wrap them at our house!"
"He doesn't do it silly! While he is eating the milk and cookies you left for him, his elves wrap the gifts!"
He smiled and the day was saved.
W. was also the one to ask me how Santa was able to get into our house because we didn't have a fireplace with a chimney.
Damn kid can't ever make it easy on me. Ahem.
Thus, the tradition of crafting a magic key began. I would cut the shape of a key from card stock and he would decorate it. He would then hang it on the mailbox on Christmas Eve. Only Santa was able to make the key work our lock. And then, in a puff of smoke, the key disappeared.
As we added children to our brood, we'd have three keys for Santa. The
And so, again, the spirit of St. Nick was preserved.
Now tell me, what's your holiday white lie?