I Also Believe in the Lock Ness Monster, and That The Government Killed JFK. Sue Me.

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{Thanks to Goon Squad Sarah for sharing this post on Kirtsy}

Mom, do you believe in Santa Claus?

I get this question more than I get any other one. June 8th, they'll be asking me. I think it's because they want to believe what I believe, whether or not they know it can't be true. They want to believe in me, so they believe in Santa.

I tell them yes every time they ask. When they ask if I ever doubted, I tell them no, but that Santa didn't come to my house when I was a kid, so I never really believed or didn't. I tell them that when 1of3 was a tiny baby and I saw the magic of Christmas, the true meaning of it, for the very first time, I had to believe.

That is true. And I do believe in Santa. I believe that you are Santa and I am Santa and that guy in the grocery store who bumps into you and doesn't even apologize? He's Santa, too. We parents, we are magic personified. Everything we do is of fairy dust and pixie wishes in the eyes of our children, if we let it be. We are legends, we are gods, we are giants. We are myth and legends. We are earth and sky to these children who just want to believe in us.

We Santas aren't just the fat guy in the red suit how drops gifts off...we are the symbol of hope and of faith to our children. We are what teaches them that their actions matter, even when no one is looking. We are what allows them to realize that, even though they maybe totally fucked up, there is always the chance for redemption, that no one actually ever leaves coal, that there is always forgiveness and love waiting for you, dry and toasty over the fire.

I believe in Santa Claus, yes I do. I believe in me, I believe in you, I believe in all of us. My son believes that the beams of light that cut through the clouds after a storm and slice the sky in yellow shards are the fingers of god, and he believes that his mother has faith in something purely good and loving and generous and beautiful, and so he knows that he can believe in those things, too.

And that is the greatest gift Santa could ever give a child. Or his jaded old broken grown up mom.