Thursday, September 12, 2013


So last night, I went with my daughter to Arby's.  She became very excited, leaned over to me, and whispered "That's Santa over there!  I've seen him before!  At Christmas, eating the cookies!"   I returned smile and whispered "Sh, let's keep his secret."
I worry about her going to school tomorrow and talking about seeing Santa.  Why do I worry about that?  I worry about her meeting that one kid.  You know the kid; the destroyer of dreams, the buzzkill: Reality.  I don't know if her class has that one kid.  Maybe we'll be lucky and she doesn't.  I'm not ready for my daughter to meet the kid who is going to tell her Santa isn't real.

Side note: Telling my daughter that Darth Vader is Luke's father before she gets to experience Star Wars for herself will upset me to the same level as telling her there is no Santa.


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