No More Pitter Patter

A father of teenagers on Christmas morning.

It is Christmas morning and I am the only one awake, drinking coffee with the traditional A Christmas Story marathon on in the background. My wife and teenage son and daughter are still in bed.

Surrounded by wonderfully wrapped gifts, I am struck in wonderment at where the time has gone. Not too long ago, the Santa Claus gift opening malaise at the Jowers’ household would have settled in by now. I would be putting together toys and installing AA batteries in virtually everything. I guess everybody who told me that I should cherish these moments with my children because they fly by way too quickly, were right. This prophecy seems to have come to fruition for me this beautiful Christmas morning.

Since the kids found out that Mom and Dad were actually Santa Claus, Christmas Eve and morning at our house are much different. No longer do we hide toys from Santa in the attic or at the office. No longer is the stress of attempting to assemble a basketball goal, after an overindulgence in Jack Daniels, in the garage with as little noise possible necessary. Now all of the presents are already wrapped and under the tree and Mom and Dad can go to bed before 3am.

It’s less stressful, but bittersweet. It was fun to prepare the living room for Christmas morning. We would drink wine, wrap presents, and make sure it was apparent that Santa had eaten the cookies we left out for him and that his reindeer were properly fueled for their long winter journey. These things created magic for our children on Christmas morning.

The look of innocent anticipation on our children’s faces as they stood over our bed attempting to wake us up predawn, and the magical shouts of joy as they scrambled down the stairs and realized that Santa had indeed come to our house. I miss these things.

I understand that a child’s revelation that they have been duped about Santa is is a rite of passage and part of growing up, I can’t help but feel a bit sad about the loss of innocence that this revelation brings.

My hope is that my children will remember their Santa Claus years fondly and that they are able to experience the same joy and wonderment that I experienced with them on Christmas morning.

The dogs are up with me, excited about digging into their stockings. I think I’ll go ahead and let them do their thing. Maybe that will wake everybody else up.