When Tyler and I were first married, I made it very clear that I still believed in Santa and he needed to keep that magic alive for me. Okay, so I knew the whole bit, but I still felt the magic and I wanted to hold onto it. Tyler played along every year.
I am the youngest of five and, for as long as I can remember, I would wake up at 2am with the excitement of the world in my hands - ready to start the day. The anticipation of waking everyone up, one by one, the waiting, the wondering, and the joy filled me to the brim and the idea of losing that never crossed my mind. Why not believe?
During Matilda's first Christmas, the magic was as brilliant as ever. We were at the RMH and I had my family in my arms. My daughter was alive and my son was vibrant - unfazed. Last year, I felt it when we were back for a visit and Santa stopped by. I still tear up when I read that post.
But this year, this year I filled the stockings. Tyler and I set out gifts together. And just like that the magic and that belief I had held on to for so long slipped away. I had all of a sudden become that grown-up that I never wanted to be.
Overwhelmed with that realization, I sat down and tears fell. Tyler took my hand and told me that I was lucky. I was lucky to have held onto the magic for this long. And come morning, I was lucky to pass it along to Parker. He is four, he gets Christmas, he will remember this day, he will remember that feeling of waking up with the excitement of the world in his hands.
And boy was Tyler right. The magic was still here and it was beautiful.