Discordance

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TITLE: Mr. Kris Kringle
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DATE: 12.23.02
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ISSUE: #1
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Oh, I clung to the image of Santa Claus for a long time, till I was almost 11. My parents started dropping hints a few years back, you know, wrapping "Santa's" presents in the same paper we used, and staring at each other fondly over the mushy gifts in their stockings that were supposed to be from the big man. But my brother and I stubbornly fought it off, believing reindeer, not raccoons, had carried away the carrots we always put outside for Rudolph, and that the jingle bells we heard just before falling asleep were Santa's sleigh bells, and not our father trying to cover up his noisey steps as he carried our presents up from the basement.

You should have seen my bro and I on Christmas morning. We'd be up at 3am, racing to my parents room every 15 minutes to check if it was time to go downstairs and jumping up on my bed, singing Disney songs at the top of our lungs in between. That usually got mom and dad up around five ^_^. Then of course, they'd take their sweet time making coffee, while Nate and I would run around the tree, pointing out big presents that weren't there last night. And when we finally caught sight of our full stockings, we'd both squeal and race over with high-pitched giggles. (My brother would kill me if he knew I'd just told you he used squeal ^_^.)

Christmas is never the same when you finally know. Know that he isn't real and that the cookies and cards and surprises were eaten or written or left by your parents and not some magical, thousand year old, jolly elf.

But despite the pain and loss that comes with the realization, no one would ever give up those wonderful few years when they truly believed.

My parents are such dorks about it now-a-days -_-;;. They insist on still writing from "Santa" on presents and won't accept any thank-you's unless their names are on the tag. But I love them anyway and I'm glad they kept my brother and I in the dark for so long. It always makes me sad when I find out some kid realized their was no Santa when they were like, 6 or 7. Half the joy of Christmas is him. It really is. The holiday is just so much less without the anticipation of his red suit coming down through the chimney. But oh well ::shrug::.

Now at least, I get to smile knowingly when the kids I babysit for chatter on about him and how he smelled like Old Spice when they visited him in the mall.

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