During breakfast recently at the International House of Pancakes my children informed me that, “There is no Santa Claus.” The topic arose when I nonchalantly mentioned getting their lists done for Santa so he had some time to make their gifts. Little did I know…..

“You mean so you have time to go shopping, don’t you Mamma?” quipped JJ.

“No. I don’t,” I responded sternly. “I get my gifts for you from stores. But we need to mail Santa your list so he can bring his gifts to you.”

“Hey, didn’t Santa give us the iPod Touches last year?” questioned Lara. “Didn’t know elves made Apple products.”

“Or that their work was warranted at the Apple store,” JJ added sarcastically.

My heart sank. JJ and Lara have been very vocal with their Christmas magic doubts this year and I’ve been tap dancing around their comments. But it’s been getting harder. In my heart I knew that if I could pull it off this year – it would probably be the last year Santa Claus would be part of their childhood vocabulary.

“Lara, Santa and the elves are busy making a ton of gifts for lots of kids. iPods are a big thing. I’m sure he has an agreement with Apple for manufacturing, distribution and to help fix them when they break.” I realized how silly that sounded and pictured Steve Jobs turning over in his grave.

“Right,” JJ said flatly. “Then maybe you can explain why the Fire Department brought Santa to our house last year? Did the reindeer turn into firemen at 12:00am? And Santa’s sleigh turn to into a fire truck?”

As our waitress placed pancakes and omelets on the table she caught JJ’s comment. Glancing at me she raised her eyebrows as if to say, “Good luck.”

“JJ we live in the city. Just where do you expect Santa’s reindeer to land? On our roof? They wouldn’t fit! So Santa parks the reindeer up on the boulevard and the firemen take Santa to houses in the neighborhood while the reindeer take a rest.”

Our waitress’ lip curled in a sly smile as she asked if anyone wanted anything else to drink. Ignoring her question JJ pushed, “So why did you slip one of the firemen an envelope?”

“I’ll take some more coffee please,” I responded to the waitress in a pathetic stall for time. When our eyes met her eyebrows raised and head tilted as if to say, “They got’cha.” But I’m not sunk yet, I thought.

“JJ, why can’t I give our firemen a Christmas card and thank them for making sure Santa gets to our house on Christmas Eve? Those firemen watch out for us all year round. I wish I could give them more.”

For a moment I thought I’d won because the interrogation ended. But it was the whipped cream on the pile of pancakes that stole their attention. So I sipped my coffee and glanced nervously around at the tables nearest us, fearful that our conversation may have crushed some 3-year-old’s dreams. Luckily, the youngest child in our section was about two tables away – out of earshot.

In my mind I thought back to when JJ and Lara were 3 and 4-years-old. For three years I took them to Santa’s Village at the North Pole. We’d spend the day at a Christmas themed amusement park and there were holiday related activities at night. I could still hear my daughter screaming, “Mamma it’s Santa!” when the big man in red showed up. Now they’re 10 and 11, and I’d do anything – including lie – to have one more year of keeping them enchanted with Christmas magic.

As if he heard my thoughts JJ said, “You know Mamma, we’re getting older. It’s time to tell us the truth about Santa Claus.”

I knew a heard a twinge of doubt in his voice. Both he and Lara were watching me intently and I didn’t have the heart to let them grow up just yet, so I just shook my head and answered, “The truth is that if you don’t believe in him, he won’t come. Do you want to take that chance?”

Lara and JJ glanced quickly at each other – then back to me. “We’ll believe in Santa if you want us to Mamma,” Lara said. “Yea, and his firemen….oh I mean reindeer,” added JJ.

Although they acted secure in their disbelief – they weren’t willing to take the chance that Santa may not come. Or maybe…just maybe…they wanted to believe for one more year. Or maybe….just maybe…it was me who wanted them to believe…for just one more year.

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