A few weeks ago, Elijah caught Diana unawares with the following question:
“Mommy, is Santa real?”
She panicked. She has a no lying policy with our sons. But she also has a no ruining childhoods policy with our sons.
She caved and said Santa was not real. I was pissed. I snidely said, “Why didn’t you tell him he’ll never achieve all of his dreams too, while you are at it?”
In retaliation, Diana decided to give the boys the greatest Christmas ever. Our tree was so filled with presents that Eli and Luca got present fatigue half way through Christmas morning. I actually had to say, “Come on, guys. You’ve got a lot more presents to open. Don’t quit on me now.”
She also bought me the single greatest Christmas present ever: A giant furry Chewbacca robe. Even looking at it makes you begin to sweat under your pits.
For my part, I cooked a massive Christmas standing rib roast dinner, the bones of which Grover got to eat and then immediately turn into diarrhea.
I also wrote a highly personalized letter from Santa. It mentioned a recent joke Eli told at dinner and called out specific nice activities that only a fat man with 24 hour monitoring at his disposal.
It was a last ditch effort to convince Eli that maybe when Diana told him there was no Santa that maybe there WAS really a Santa and when she said otherwise it was part of an elaborate mind game that he will never truly understand.
Last night I was laying down in Luca’s bunk in an effort to calm him down from 30 thousand cookies.
Eli popped his head down from the top bunk and said, “Dad, is Santa real?”
I said, “Yes. Yes he is.”