The other day, Gianni, my 11 year old nephew who was busy playing with lego suddenly stopped what he was doing and asked me quite the loaded question;
“Hey Yee, do you believe in Santa Claus?”
Without hesitation, I said; “Of course I do!”
Out of all of my nieces and nephews, I find Gianni the easiest to talk to, probably because, as my sister says; I’m really an 11 year old child pretending to be an adult.
I want to lie and say of course that’s not true, but there are some resemblances that cannot be ignored.
We love all the same tv shows, play with our food, have all the same games on our iPads and our Christmas lists are identical.
“Maybe he’s mature for his age!”
I don’t think my sister has stopped laughing.
He’s 11 years old.
I’m 36 years young.
It’s not the first time I’ve been told I have the maturity of a child.
I’m completely ok with that.
I like that I take a lighter hearted approach to life–that I’m playful, curious about the world, and appreciate the little things.
The alternative is being a miserable cow.
We all know some of those.
In spite of all my earlier posts and protests, I really do like children.
Not in the Big Bad Wolf sense.
I gotta respect my tribe.
Besides, one cannot work at Summer Camps for 3 years without appreciating the clientele.
I look at Gianni and ask;
“Why do you ask?”
He says there’s a kid at school that’s going around telling everyone Santa doesn’t exist…that it’s all lies.
I silently wonder which parent gets custody of Petey Positivity for Christmas this year.
Petey’s tragic backstory involves being nursed until he was 8 years old, which gave him numerous allergies.
The cloth diapers gave him a constant rash and he was homeschooled for a few years until Mommy caught his nanny teaching phys ed to daddy.
That’s why he has an edge.
The only comfort provided to him when he cried, and cried, and cried as an infant was a biodegradable blanket that melted whenever he shed a tear.
Hey, if that was my tragic backstory, I’d be a miserable cow too.
I look over at Gianni, with his big blue eyes, staring expectantly.
“Well, I can’t speak for Petey, uh, the kid in your class, but that’s his belief. It’s what’s inside your heart and your soul.”
Watching all of those Christmas movies has finally paid off!
Something resonated with me.
I quickly mull over writing a made for tv Christmas movie.
It might be more involved than a Harlequin romance.
I remember having a meeting with an old boss who told me they weren’t religious and had no beliefs.
Much to this person’s annoyance, I smirked and said “Well, then that’s it’s own belief, believing in nothing at all!!”
The point is, everyone does believe in something.
Maybe it’s hope, or finding joy.
And no one should tell you what or how you should believe in.
There’s another point to this story.
If you’re a parent, try not to raise a little bully that goes around upsetting other children.
I hope Santa does come to find your child, and he looks something like this: