that fat old man in red

this year my daughter realises that santa is really her mummy. she hasn't made any comment about her newly gained knowledge, or showed any signs whether it will scar her indefinitely and turn her into an unbalanced weird lady who is borderline psychotic. she seems to have accepted the fact well, as long as mummy santa keeps on delivering. a wise little girl i have on my hand.

still, it's a little sad for me, and i should think for her as well, that the santa fantasy has popped. there is something very magical about the fat red old man bringing presents for children. i mean, presents from anybody will do just fine from a kid's viewpoint, but nobody beats santa. it brings out the christmas spirit in you, that little spring in your walk, that little christmas hum, that spirit of giving and sharing and that 'ho ho ho'. christmas will definitely be a lot quiter, a lot less cheer without santa.

i had a secret santa when i was a kid too. well, just for one christmas, and i knew straightaway that it was my uncles, but it still felt special and wonderful. and it was this feeling that i wanted to recreate for my kids when i took on the role of santa since they were little wee ones. it wasn't an easy task, worse every year that they are growing older and wiser, since i have to sneak around to get presents, wake up in the middle of the night to wrap them and place them where they will be found, and not forgetting acting very surprised the very next morning together with the kids. they can only be gullible for so long.

the younger one is still lost in his world of dreams. he hasn't caught on to the fact....... i think. unless he has caught on and he has a better poker face than his sister. he's still wishing for psp's and has even got the entire toys 'r' us catalog circled. santa won't bring presents for greedy children, i told him. but i think he's still keeping his fingers crossed. i like the naiveness in him, the innocence, the pureness and i wish i can keep him like that for as long as his childhood lasts.

what i can't understand is why some adults have to be so cruel. during an art lesson last week, we were so engrossed in our paintings and the cheery christmas song in the air, when the teacher said out loud, 'you know that santa doesn't exist and is just your mummy and daddy'. if i wasn't so much in the christmassy mood, i would have very much like to clobber her. to stomp on her a little and say 'ho ho ho'. what did she get for breaking other children's dream? i think she is mr. scrooge reincarnated, revelling in bursting the bubble of little ones and the happiness and laughters that go with it. she had nothing to gain, absolutely nothing. what possible ulterior motives could she have? to do something bad when you have absolutely no benefit is of such low moral character. luckily only my daughter was around, my son wandering a little off hearing distance. i sushed her into silence. and to think, she was this sweet soft-spoken artistic lady, or at least to all outward appearance.

i'll be a little sad when my son doesn't believe in santa anymore, for when santa disappears from his fantasy world, a little part of me will have to disappear as well. that little playful fun-loving happy part. the part that watches her children's faces light up with joy as they open their presents from santa. sometimes it was inconvenient, the secret santa's job, sometimes it was troublesome. but it was worth every minute of it.