We don't do Santa Claus in our house. Neither Keith or I ever believed in Santa. Before we had children, we discussed what we wanted to do for them. And we settled on no Santa.
This isn't entirely about keeping to the true meaning of Christmas. (Although that is important, and we talk a lot about it.)
It was more about not lying to our children. I remember my friends recalling the moments of their childhood when they realized that Santa wasn't real, and the devastation associated with that. I never wanted my children to go through that. And I wanted them to always be able to trust me, even in little things. The process of creating the hoax of Santa felt dishonest.
Anyways, this post isn't really about my family's take on Santa. It is about the magic of childhood.
Despite the fact that we don't do Santa, Roman wrote this darling letter to Santa. He just come home from school last week, pulled out a paper, and wrote this letter. (I am not going to translate his spelling; I want to be true to his writing. Just sound it out.)
I can't make up my mind what I want for Crismas. There is so mene toys.
I hope you eat lot of your cookies. So have fun dulivring your presints from the chimne. But I have a problam. I don't have one. So be quiet opening the dore.
I know you have a lot of elves, for evrey-one in the world.
Ho Ho. Merry Crismas.
I hope that the letter melts your heart, just as much as it did mine. And reminds you, that whatever you believe, this is still a magical time of year.