Christmas Magic

As parents, we often feel the need to fill the lives of our children with unexplained "magic." Christmas gives us the perfect opportunity to do this.

Several years ago, when my boys were 4 and 5, my ex-husband and I wanted to make Santa Clause real for them. We didn't have a fireplace, so of course we had to respond to the usual questions about how Santa would get in to leave his presents. Being the good Santa's helpers that we were, we quietly placed their gifts under the tree during the wee hours of Christmas morning. Then, we carefully poured baking soda onto a plate and, using my husbands workboots, we proceeded to make "snowy" footprints from the door to the tree and back. When the boys woke up, we joined them at the tree for the ripping and shredding of Christmas wrappings. We nonchalantly pointed to the footsteps and said, "What's this? Footprints? Santa must have forgotten to wipe his feet." Both boys promptly began to examine the footprints while their father and I looked at each other gloatingly over their heads. All of a sudden, my youngest son yelled out, "That's not snow--it's SUGAR!" With one simple statement, the magic was gone.

This year, my current husband and I wanted desperately to bring the magic of Christmas to our 5-year-old twin daughters. For weeks they had been asking to see Santa so that they could tell him what they wanted for Christmas: a Light Sketcher for Kayden and a shiny, pink guitar for Alexis. My schedule was very hectic this year and I kept postponing the dreaded trip to the mall to stand in line for two hours waiting to see Santa, just to have him take a lunch break when we finally reached the front of the line. Instead, I promised to introduce them to Santa, following his appearance at the Singing Christmas Tree. You see, my son and I were participating in the production this year and my husband and daughters had tickets for the final show.

Backstage, while I helped Santa slide into his coat and shoes, I carefully coached him. "Okay, Santa, my girls are dressed alike, except for the color of their tights. The one in black tights wants the Light Sketcher; the one in white tights wants the shiny, pink guitar." He repeated this a few times to set it into his memory.

After the show, I quickly rushed into the audience to find my children. "Okay, girls, are you ready to meet Santa?" "YES!!" I led them backstage to find the magical giver of good cheer. As soon as they spotted them, they became very shy and approached tentatively. Before they could say anything, Santa saw them. "Why, hello, girls! I know who you are." Their eyes grew large. "Let me think for a moment," he continued. "You," he said,pointing to the one in black tights, "want a Light Sketcher; and you," turning to the one in white tights, "want a shiny, pink guitar. Am I right?" They both looked at him in awe, eyes as big as snow globes. Both nodded their heads slowly. Finally, one of the girls turned to me and whispered, "How did he know?"

With one innocent statement, the magic of Christmas lives on.