The magic is still alive here.
My Boo, all six foot 4 probably more of him, believes.
His eyes wide when I talk of the jolly fat man in the red suit who will come in less than a week.
Chores done without complaint, lest I place a call to the North Pole and get him placed on the naughty list.
I am a hypocrite.
I am trying to draw him away from all things childish, like Teletubbies and Blues Clues, to convince him he needs a teenagers room not the kids room he now occupies.
But I keep the fantasy going.
Just one more year I tell myself.
Just one more year of wonder and excitement and anticipation.
I still remember being so very excited, barely able to contain it. Stifling squeals of joy at the slightest noise outside on Christmas Eve.
I still remember the crushing pain of discovering ‘the truth’.
Boo wrote a letter to Santa. Only two items, one a green Les Paul guitar for one of his classmates.
The thing he crossed off was a black bass guitar cause he is getting that from Mum and Dad.
I explained to him that maybe his classmate could ask for one from Santa himself. But Boo was adamant.
Thankfully he changed his mind, at the thought of getting a Big City Slider as seen on TV/YouTube with his current obsession, Billy Mays.
I am impressed with his use of footnotes, but slightly un-nerved by the ominous tone of the last line…
Hope Santa can produce the goods.
If only for one more year.