Saturday, December 15, 2012
The Day Santa Died
While waiting in a crowded line to see Santa, my daughter casually turned to me and said, “Hey Daddy, you know that Santa isn’t…”
It was just about then that everything went into slow motion.
The words jumping off my daughter’s lips, the shock on my wife’s face, the other kids within listening distance with the baffled looks; the expression on the other parent’s and grandparent’s faces.
Even the small dog wearing a sweater in a nearby pet stroller had the look of disgust.
As my daughter continued going on about “the 4th graders on the playground”, I quickly picked her up and moved her away from the area – for her own safety of course.
When we settled on a far enough place, we had a small conversation about those other children at school and the now low probability of them ever getting and iPad Mini for Christmas with that kind of talk.
At the same time a part of me died a little inside knowing my little girl is growing up way faster than I ever imagined.
Those years spent with excitement over meeting Santa and telling him how ‘extra good’ she’s been are pretty much over at the age of 7! How does this happen? When did 0-6 become the golden years of childhood?
Oh yeah, 4th graders on the playground. They’re to blame.
If I were the sheriff of this town, I’d have those kids locked up and then I’d put the key around the neck of that little dog with the sweater to guard it.