When Kids Find Out About the S-Word
The loss of innocence is inevitable. But now what?
This time of year, I’m a firm believer in phoning it in whenever possible. To that end, I’m reposting this one from last year. One year later, I have more subscribers (thank you!), and the topic is still timely as many of my mom and dad friends are experiencing this for the first time. So, enjoy! And happy holidays.
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Alternate title: “When the Magic Runs Out.” But I’m a serious journalist, which means I’m highly skilled in clickbait. So, no, I’m not talking about that s-word. Instead, I’m talking about Santa. I knew it was coming. My oldest will be 11 in January, and I thought I could eek out one last season.
I thought wrong.
It all started with the tooth fairy—the gateway mythical creature. I was standing outside my house talking with a neighbor when my daughter ran over to us, holding a bag of teeth. Crap. “I knew it,” she said, looking smug. At that moment, I realized I had two choices: come clean or tell her that I’m a psychopath à la Joe on Netflix’s You. You can guess which route I went.
That realization led to further questioning: “So, wait, my fairy door fairy?” Yup, I moonlight as a fairy named Maeve, who once broke her wing so severely, she couldn’t visit for six months. (By the way, worst gift ever. Don’t do it yourselves, moms and dads. Trust me.) “And the Elf on the Shelf?” For years I’ve placated her with, “C’mon! Do you really think mom gets up in the middle of the night to move a stuffed toy?” She agreed that would be insane, but she saw it in my face this time. “And the Leprechaun?” Um, I’ve never indulged in that one (I blame you, teachers). But my kids know I’d never buy Lucky Charms cereal, so it had to be a little green guy.
As the lies unraveled, she wasn’t mad—just disappointed. Ouch. “You’ve got to be better at hiding teeth, Mom,” she said. I agreed.
While she didn’t bring up the s-word, I assumed the big guy was now on her growing list of “Lies Mom and Dad Tell.” But a few weeks later, she made a Christmas list for Santa. Whew, I thought. Although there is something odd about asking Santa for Tik Tok creator “merch” and Morphe eyeshadow palettes. My girl is growing up. Sigh.
And then it happened. She pressed her father for the truth while putting together a Christmas puzzle, and he told her. I saw red for a few minutes; I won’t lie. But the writing has been on the wall since that unfortunate bag of teeth incident, so we all knew it was coming.
She made it longer than I did. I was seven when I walked into my mom’s bedroom to find my Christmas gifts scattered all over the floor: Teddy Ruxpin, My Child, and all the things 80s dreams were made of were laid out in front of my eyes. Only I didn’t tell my mom. I played along. (Side note: It was the first Christmas after my dad passed away, so I knew I had to keep pretending.) I remember telling myself that Santa was once real, but now parents buy gifts. I wasn’t ready to give up the magic at that age, so it was a small consolation.
What worked for my daughter? Telling her that she was now part of a very secret society: the magic makers. She now gets to create magic for her two younger sisters. Her eyes lit up at the idea. “So, I can hide the elf at night?” Um, yes! I’m happy to delegate that job. “Can I slip a dollar under G’s pillow next time she loses a tooth?” Considering I’ve forgotten to tooth fairy twice now, this may work out to my advantage. But I suspect it’s also going to cost me money. She’s already plotting scenarios and outfit changes for that darn Elf.
How do I feel? I’m a little sad. It marks the end of a very magical era. I try not to picture her little face on Christmases past because, as I’ve told you, I’d rather laugh on the days I want to cry. (And because I have fresh lash extensions, there’s no crying in lash extensions.) We’ll still do our usual traditions, but they will be different now that she knows the Norad tracker is BS and mom poorly photoshopped that very compelling picture of Santa in front of our tree. It also marks the start of a new era, one in which she helps to make it magical for her sisters, and mom and dad finally get the credit for that amazing present under the tree. I’m looking forward to that part.
So, it will be a different season, yes. But change is inevitable—and it’s not always a bad thing. Watching kids grow is bittersweet. But to keep lying to my daughter, who was ready to know the truth? I guess I’m not that kind of mom.