Man on the Run

Our trip to Grandma's house in Greensboro last weekend ended with a bang. Literally.

As we packed up the car to head home, LJ streaked down the front hallway like a bat out of hell. If it had been the NFL combine, his draft stock would have sky rocketed.

Instead, with the storm door securely closed, LJ's face met the plexiglass with a sound that my husband described as an "explosion."

There was a fair amount of blood after impact, and he had a bruised ego, a headache and a sore nose for a few days. But considering the collision, we were lucky that nothing was broken -- either the door or LJ's nose.

LJ handled the blood, the pain, and the shock of the accident exceptionally well (although he did ask to "wear a mask like Psycho T because I'm a boy on the go"). 

Never one to miss a sunshine moment, Julianna dished up a positive spin on things -- even as we were in the midst of assessing the damage.

"Well, look on the bright side, Jack," she said. "At least you've added some red to your green and white shirt. That's the way to get into the Christmas spirit!"

Surrounded by bloody carnage, and my daughter offers fashion tips.

On the drive home, I glanced back at a resilient LJ, who was fully engrossed in his Nintendo DS while sporting a small piece of tissue stuffed up each nostril. I reflected on the potential catastrophes the kids had averted earlier in the day before LJ clocked in with the thud heard around the Triad.

While at Grandma's, the kids took full advantage of the snow that had fallen a few days before, using a small inner tube to sled down the tiny hills that line the property.

Although we were able to keep an eye on the kids by watching them through the windows, I must have gone outside a dozen times to issue various warnings.

"Not that hill -- it's too steep."


"Watch out for the ditch."


"Don't sled too close to the house."


"Don't push each other -- it makes you go too fast!"

Based on the Department of Homeland Security's Advisory System, my mommy radar was definitely somewhere between yellow and orange on the terror alert chart.

I held my breath with every trip the kids took down the hills, and I sensed catastrophe at every turn.

I was prepared for any number of disasters involving my children and the inner tube -- a hurricane, a landslide, perhaps even a tsunami. But I never sensed what was as plain as the daylight shining through a perfectly clean plexiglass storm door.

No matter you much you hover, nag, and plead, it just goes to show that, for even the most overprotective parent like me, danger lurks around every corner.

Or in this case, at the end of Grandma's hallway.

Who Asked You?

Less than 24 hours after I wrote about the kids still believing in Santa, LJ made me a liar.

On Saturday morning, he came downstairs for breakfast and said: "I'm confused. I went to ask.com and typed in 'Is Santa real?' and I got a bunch of different answers. And one of them said that it's just a character that parents made up to make their kids happy."

Here's the link if you want to see the response he got. (Of interest, note the "related searches" on the right-hand side that say "Is the tooth fairy real?" and "Is the world going to end in 2012?")

The ambiguity of the answers on ask.com only added to LJ's ever-increasing anxiety about whether to believe.

After talking him down from the ledge, I said: "If you think Santa is real, that's all the matters isn't it? Why do you need to know for sure?"

"I just need to know if I SHOULD believe or not," he said.

And he couldn't let it go. The rest of the day he peppered us with questions until we finally caved.

When we told him the truth, a look of relief washed over him -- and his smile was enormous. He seemed genuinely happy that he no longer had to wrestle with the answer to one of life's great mysteries.

Of course, finding out about Santa is like tipping the first domino in a long chain -- LJ then fired away with a litany of other questions:

Easter Bunny? - Of course, that's us too.

Tooth Fairy? - Yep, Mom & Dad. (and sorry about that time I forgot to leave the money)

Elves? Guilty as charged.

Leprechauns? Fake.

Reindeer? Real, but they don't fly.

Man on the moon? - Government hoax.

Elvis? - Still dead.

"But wait," LJ said. "Does that mean YOU are the ones who eat Santa's cookies?"

Suddenly, LJ saw an opportunity. And after swearing up, down, and sideways that he would not tell Julianna or his still-believing friends about Santa, we agreed to let him help us play elf.

At our house, there is no Elf on a Shelf. But there is a rogue band of sneaky little elves that come about once a week during December and leave goodies and make mischief around the house.

Julianna made an intricate little house for the elves complete with table settings, a Christmas tree, and stockings. Unfortunately, the shoe box she used for the elf house was from a pair of shoes I had intended to return to the store.

I can only imagine the look on the cashier's face at Kohl's when I ask for a refund and hand her the unworn shoes nestled inside an elf house.

Last night, LJ got his first chance to be Santa's helper. He had a blast taking tiny bites out of each of the marshmallows Julianna had left inside the elf house for the guests.

This morning, it was heart-warming to see LJ play along as Julianna discovered what the elves had done. It seems like he's taking a lot of pride in playing the role of big brother and he's relishing the chance to contribute to the magic of Christmas. I think, at least in LJ's case, the time was right for him to learn the truth.

And one other good thing has come out of this whole "ask.com" Santa fiasco.

When it comes time to tell LJ where babies come from, I know right where I'm sending him.

Lazy Claus is Coming to Town

LJ is in third grade, which means he's at the age where some of his friends have started questioning Santa's existence. I don't know the exact numbers, but I'm guessing at least 1/3 of his classmates are no longer "believers."

For Julianna, who is 6, Santa is still an absolute. There's no doubt in her mind that the big man will not only be visiting our house, but will also bring her a new American Girl doll, furniture for the American Girl doll, and a full wardrobe for the American Girl doll (who has already been named Kelly).

Hopefully, Julianna will not be too disappointed to learn, that, in these tough economic times, Santa may have to substitute some knock-off dresses from eBay and a doll-sized bunk bed from Wal-Mart. (Hey, Santa likes low prices too).

LJ, on the other hand, has been trying to rationalize whether Santa is, in fact, real.

The kid is nothing if not practical, so I think that deep down, he knows the truth. But he wants to believe, and so he's trying to convince himself.

LJ has noted a number of reasons why Santa must be real, the most recent of which -- if not for my Jewish guilt -- might have made me spill the elves' dirty little secret.

"Mom," he said, "Santa must be real because parents are too lazy to do all that stuff. And same with the Easter Bunny. You guys wouldn't get up in the middle of the night and hide eggs and get all those presents out. Parents are too lazy to do all that stuff just to make their kids happy."

"Besides, that would just be RUDE for parents to buy themselves all those gifts."

My reaction?

First I choked on my eggnog-flavored coffee.

Then I cursed in Yiddish.

But, finally, I let it pass. Santa and those creepy little elves would win this round.

As parents, we all know that, no matter how much we try to protect our children, they are still exposed to an inordinate amount of bad stuff via their friends, the Internet, and television.

Santa is one of the few pieces of innocence they have left.

Santa is all about goodness, magic, and giving to others. He may not be the true reason for the season, but he still represents a very important part of childhood.

So, at least for now, I'll keep Santa's identity all to myself. I think it's better that way.

Besides, I don't want to risk finding a lump of coal in my stocking on Christmas morning.