Half-Sick Post #2 - Joel and the Death of the Big 3

This is Joel about the time that it all went down.

If you believe in Santa or are waivering in your belief, read no further.

On Christmas Eve Steave and I stay up late wrapping the kids gifts and placing them under the tree with the Pope's Christmas Eve Mass blaring in the background. We still do it. We then place the gifts in the designated "gift place." (Sometimes I have a tree, sometimes I don't) We have never put who they were from on the gift tag. I never could bring myself to let Santa get the credit for all our hard work. But when they still believed in Santa, I didn't want a big confrontation on Christmas morning either. I just let them come to their own conclusions.

Now, Steave nor I ever told them there was or wasn't a Santa. Before we could decide what we wanted to do about it, it was thrust upon our kids by well-meaning schools, family and friends. "What's Santa going to bring you this year?" We just let it go, smiled and were non-committal.

The Tooth Fairy, too, arrived in the same sort of way. "How much did the tooth fairy leave you for that tooth?" The kids would look up at us, confused and I'd rush home and put some coins under their pillow. I didn't want them to think that the tooth fairy hated them or forgot about them.

I just figured they would "grow out of it" or realize what was going on and we'd laugh and they'd look at us with admiration at how silly parents can be when they love their kids. Boy, was I wrong!

One year, in a whirlwind of life's responsibilities and tragedies (my sister had died recently), I forgot to leave Joel some money for a tooth. Being the creative mom that I am, I devised the most clever plan in the history of parenthood. I got some magazines from the office where I worked and cut out travel pictures and wrote the most elaborate story of the "Tooth Fairy's Vacation" and how she was so sorry that she didn't leave money the night he put his tooth under his pillow but better late than never, right? I carefully tucked the scraps and copies in the paper recycling bin and was very proud of myself.

The next day, Joel came to my office after school and as usual he got paper out of the recycling bin to draw on. He dug real deep that day and yes, he found my scraps. He came to me with them in his hand. He wasn't happy. When we got home we had a talk in the back yard. He was crying and stomping. "The tooth fairy is a lie?" he shouted. "Yes." I said. "Is Santa a lie, too?" That was hard but I couldn't lie, he was having a life changing moment. He was leaving innocent childhood and moving into whatever that next stage is called. "Yes. Santa is a lie, too." I confessed. "But I never put 'from Santa' on the gifts" I said in a vain attempt to defend myself. "Is God and Jesus and all that a lie, too?" "Well, that I believe in." I said. "How do you know it's real when Santa and the tooth fairy are lies." He railed. "I don't know, I just believe it and you're going to have to figure that out for yourself." He continued to sob and stomp and he finally said, "Do all parents lie to their children? Is that all they do, LIE?" "I guess some do and some don't" I said. The words stung, but it was the truth. I did lie.

Poor Joel, that was a tough year. His aunt died, the tooth fairy died and Santa died, the Big 3. I really didn't want the harsh realities of life to be dumped on my son when he was only 7, but I couldn't stop it.

I think it was in that same year that Joel came to the conclusion that adults only have children so they can have their own personal slaves.

My 23 year old son graduated college with a degree in pastoral ministries and is on staff at a church in Mississippi. Maybe I didn't ruin him too badly.