Choosing to Believe

Our Noah.   

He is a character.   

He is passionate.   

He is sweet.   

He is challenging.   

He is wonderful. 

And he is stubborn.  Oh my, is he stubborn.

He is also 6.  And Christmas is a few days away.

It’s been an interesting Christmas season this year with him.  It all started a few weeks back.  You see, so far, we haven’t had any issues with kids opening presents, peeking or otherwise trying to ruin the surprise of Christmas morning.

I take credit for this. When I was in the 4^th grade, I peeked for the first, only and last time in my life.  I quietly stole away up into the attic of our home and nosed around until I found a tell-tale Target bag.  I quickly took a peek inside and was beyond excited to see the Prince “Purple Rain” tape in there.  (Yes, I am from Minnesota.)

The weeks passed and I waited with great anticipation to open that tape.  Christmas came and went and I realized at the end of the day that the gift was not there.  And I was sure, right then and there, that someone knew I peeked.  And therefore, I assumed that if you peeked that meant the presents went away.  (Turns out, when I finally told my parents this YEARS later, what actually happened was that they talked to a friend at church who told them the lyrics were not appropriate for 4th grader, and so they returned it.)

And so I have been telling my kids this since, well since birth.

And all peeking has been avoided.

But this year has been a bit nutty and therefore I have been driving around with presents in the back of my minivan for weeks.  And the temptation proved too great for dear Noah.  A week or so ago, as I was driving, I hear Caleb yell, “No Noah!  Don’t peek!”  I look back to see a sheepish, guilty-looking Noah in the back seat.

Me: Noah, did you peek?

Noah: Um, yeah, but I think I can forget what I saw, so it’s no big deal.

Me: Noah, what did you see?

Noah: A NFL guy.

Me: Okay, and now it will go back to the store.

Now really, I am a bit nicer than that.  There actually were two NFL guys, so they have now been wrapped together for Caleb with a tag that reads: "To Caleb, you can decide what to do..."  We'll see how that goes.

Anyway, Noah announced this weekend that he no longer believes in Santa.  I didn't really see it coming, but this was a challenge for me.  I think it was a combination of having the first of our kids decide they don't believe it the big guy in the red suit.  But really, it was something bigger.

You see, a few years after Caleb was born, I suggested we start a new tradition in our family.  Here I was 30 years old and my parents were still graciously playing Santa for all of us and our significant others.  It seemed time to change things up once grandkids were added to the mix. 

So I suggested that we readjust our thinking and that we start drawing names amongst the grown ups and playing Santa for one another (while playing Santa for our own kids, too).  

The idea behind this is that we, as a family, believe in the idea of Santa.  We believe that it's important and special to be excited.  That it's exciting to surprise someone else with no expectation of them returning the favor.  


And so we have adopted the thinking that as long as you believe in the idea of Santa, Santa still comes.  But if you stop believing, he won't come.

Except for that Noah announced he is done.  And that he thinks the grown ups do it all. 

And he is right, of course.  But that isn't the point.  I always knew there would come that "a ha!" day when each of our kids figured it out. I remember mine distinctly.  A Target price tag was left on one of my presents.  And while there were a lot of unanswered questions about Mr. Claus I knew I had never seen him shopping at Target.

I spent a lot of time and energy this weekend trying to share with Noah that how it happens isn't the point.  And in my frustration and anger at his absolutist approach to it all (I have NO idea where he got that!) I didn't come up with the right words.

But after my temper settled down a bit I talked to him again last night. 

I told him it isn't about a man in a red suit or reindeer or even the presents.  It's about the idea that there is goodness out there.  That there might just be someone who wants to give to you without the promise or expectation of you giving back.  It's about excitement and surprise and giving (not getting).  And not about chimneys and flying reindeer.  And each year, I choose to believe in those things.

I think he got it.  He now says he believes in the idea of Santa.  

And so do I.