Is Santa Real?

Or is my daughter a teensyweensy insane?

Revealing the truth about Santa to my daughter, then eight-years-old, during our post-Christmas vacation last year was hard. Despite her little brother already being quite alright with his self-induced Santa-demystification, she bawled and bawled like a . . . well . . . little girl.

It gets worse. This week she's written her aw shucks sweetness letter to Santa. I haven't read it yet, but I'm sure it's all sweetness and light, none of that greedy suburban kid stuff. That's the way she is. What's wrong with this picture is that she's playing it off like she still believes in Santa. I'm a deer in little-girl headlights. I have to play along because I'm too baffled on what to do. I don't want to trigger any bawling just weeks out from Christmas where her cocoon of Santa-belief is most vulnerable. So, I guess I'll play it like last year's conversation never happened. One day, she'll just move out and go to college - problem solved.