I saw Santa...

...going potty! Well, okay we saw him go INTO the bathroom at the mall, we didn't actually see him doing the deed. As we were waiting for the Family Bathroom, a very rosey cheeked, authentically bearded Santa passed us on his way to the potty. My son saw him and immediately he got a sparkle of awe in his eye and I heard his breathing stop in startled amazement. Then, the most exciting thing happened when Santa peeked around the corner at my kids and said "I'm watching yeeeewwww!" in a very warm effeminate southern drawl. "Did y'all know that Santa has a southern accent?!?", I shouted after him but, alas I was too late and the swinging door with the "MEN" sign on it had closed.

The meeting sparked some interesting conversation with my 3 year old. "Yep buddy, Santa has to potty just like everyone else" and for William it was the highlight of the week. Here I thought knowing the magical man has to pee and poop just the same as us mere mortals would take some of the mystery out of it for Will. To my surprise William is now more enamoured of Mr. Kringle than ever before, in fact while I am typing this he is watching Polar Express again, this is the 5th time this month.

I have spent a fair amount of time thinking about the "magic" of Christmas this year. My husband and I discussed long ago that we would not "do Santa" with our children. The skeptic in me wants to spare my children the disappointment that comes with finding out that magic isn't real, that Santa is just another lie told to us to make us behave. I have spouted these deeply held beliefs to all of my friends. "I am not going to lie to MY children" with an extra helping of elitism. Thus far I have not wavered on that idea either. I find myself trying to bait my son into a conversation about the jolly one, so that I can tell him the "truth" as soon as possible. I am just dying for him to ask me if he is real, but, his faith in the man as not wavered for even one millisecond.

After today, after I saw my son's sheer amazement and wonder, after I saw that look on his face as the most magical moment of his life took place right there in the mall potty, all that conviction I held so tightly too shattered in to tiny sparkly pieces and flittered away like pretty holiday pixies. I think I will allow my children to believe in Santa. Now, don't get me wrong, I am not going to try to make it happen for them by staging a bunch of holiday hoaxes, it just isn't me. I know the day will come, when he notices that Santa shouldn't have a southern accent. He is going to ask me why the stories don't all make sense, and how can he make it around the world in one night. When that time comes, I will be honest. But for now, if my son chooses to believe in the magic of Christmas and all of it's wonder, who am I to destroy that.

I am so thankful to my children, for bringing that tiny bit of magic back to me. I now understand why all the parents I know choose to make that magic as real as they can. Charles Dickens would be happy to know that a tiny bit of my bah humbugery has been chipped away. Deep down I kind of believe it too. Who knew that today's potty trip would change me, but there it is, a bonafide Christmas miracle.