I was just sitting on the couch enjoying a cup of coffee. The little ones were napping and the big girls were playing on the computer. Ah, yes, this is how an afternoon should be. Then, it happened.

My six year old turned and, completely out of the blue, asked the question that no mama should have to answer in the middle of July.

“Mommy, is Santa Claus real?“

“Um, what?”

“Is Santa REAL?”

“Um, what do YOU think?”

In my head, I’m thinking deflect, deflect. My mind began filling with images of half eaten cookies and mysteriously unwrapped presents under the tree. Dang it, my husband told me it would come to this.

I took a deep breath. I looked her in the eyes and told her the truth. Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. Okay, I didn’t say that. That nonsense only works in the movies.

“No. There was a man who lived a long time ago and he gave gifts. The ones who dress up today are just men who love Christmas and kids. Christmas has always been and will always be about Jesus.”

At this point, her older sister turned around slowly and began listening. I saw the surprise on her face and the wheels turning in her mind. I turn back to the six year old.

“So, how do you feel about that?”

“Fine. There is just a Barbie I want, but it’s expensive. I was wondering if I should ask you for it or Santa.”

Pause.

“Can I have the Mexico Barbie for Christmas? It’s like $100.00.”

And, on that note, I said something deep and meaningful like, “Who wants candy?” and we moved on.

I’m kind of glad the gig is up on Santa. Last year, when the old man at the mall seemed quite confident that maybe my 9 year old would get a dog – even my daughter laughed at him.

That’s right, folks. I don’t like puppies and, now, I’ve unmasked Santa. I’m really a nice person. I promise.