Santa Magic

This time next week it will be all about Santa in this house.

I’ve no doubt it will be the twins last year believing. Perhaps I could’ve strung it out a little longer with Miss Eight but her bro is seriously questioning the legend. In fact, I’m not entirely convinced he isn’t just playing along so as to receive presents in his stocking this year.

I’ve got similar suspicions with the tooth fairy. Last week his tooth fell out while I was at a work Xmas party so I didn’t find out until the next morning when he showed me the gap.

“Ohhh, you will have to remember to stick it under your pillow tonight,” I said.

“I already did!” he replied. “I got $1.20.”

Say what?

“Ummm … are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll show you.” And he ran off, returning with $1.20.

I grilled him, I grilled everyone in the house but they all denied placing the $1.20 there. And besides, why would they want to part with their money for a measly tooth? Which made me wonder if Master Eight was just calling my bluff because he was starting to cotton on. But then why would he use his own money to prove a point when he could have received more and that didn’t explain his absolute confusion as to why I was questioning him so thoroughly. As far as he was concerned, the tooth was placed under the pillow, the next morning the tooth was replaced with money, everything went as usual, end of story.

Had I just been punked by the tooth fairy? That mystery still remains unsolved and was further deepened when Miss Eight found said tooth several days later under the bed.

So back to Santa.

Last Xmas Eve was the first time I’ve been told to shoosh by the children during the news. It was the Santa report they were interested in and they sat there, transfixed, while he delivered his message.

After, a then Master Seven wouldn’t leave his vigil by the window, eyes on the sky. He already had a glass of milk going warm on the bench, with some fast-browning chopped up fruit (poor Santa) and a note stating: “Santa, you’re the best in the world. Ho ho ho.”

However, the following whereabouts update showed a glimpse of Santa in his sleigh and it was clearly a different Santa to the previous report.

“Hey, his beard’s too short,” pointed out Master Seven.

“Ah, maybe he stopped and had a haircut along the way,” I tried feebly.

“Nah, that’s not Santa,” he concluded.

However, all was saved by a trick of the light and a seven-year-old’s imagination for ten minutes later, following some more window-watching, he was adamant he had spotted Santa and it was back on.

“Ohhh, I’m so excited!” he proclaimed to which Miss Seven shrieked and they tore downstairs to bed with Master Nine following along smirking. He knows to play along else he will be waking up Xmas morning empty-stockinged.