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Santa is Real, I Swear

  • Posted on December 11, 2008 at 9:56 pm

Somehow, he seems more evil than he ever did when I was a kid. Something about the eyebrows.

Somehow, he seems more evil than he ever did when I was a kid. Something about the eyebrows.

I am going to admit something embarrassing.

I believed in Santa until I was in the fourth grade. Yes, that’s right. I was nine years old. All of my friends knew the truth. In fact, it was my friend Macy and her mom who finally told me that Santa wasn’t real one December evening as we sat eating dinner at the Frisch’s Big Boy in Union Lake, Michigan. And I distinctly remember where I was when I learned the truth because it was so traumatic for me.

I just wanted to believe so badly. I loved the magic of Christmas, and I ate up all of the fantasy and excitement. I was a smart little whippersnapper, but I somehow managed to rationalize Santa’s existence. “Santa HAS to be real, because I only told Santa that I wanted a bike, and I am sure that I never told Mom and Dad.” And the old “I am SURE that when Mom and Dad went to bed there were no presents out. There has to be a Santa because I woke up before Mom and Dad and there were presents! Who else could have put them there?”

My parents endured ENDLESS questions about the existence of Santa, and never spoiled it for me, even though I’m sure they were dying to tell me the truth just to shut me up. They kept telling me that if I didn’t believe, then Santa wouldn’t come. I wanted presents, so I believed, goddamnit!

I am so excited to make Santa real again with Stella. I may not believe in the baby Jesus, but I believe in the magic of Christmas. I can’t wait to tell her all the little details that my parents and grandparents told me to make it so real, like looking for Santa’s sleigh in the starry sky on Christmas Eve. I can’t wait to put boot prints next to the fireplace and take bites out of cookies left out for Santa. I can’t wait to put out a little elf in the house and tell her that the elf is watching her and reporting back to Santa. Just like my parents did. In fact, sometimes the little elf STILL shows up mysteriously in my house. And he doesn’t even have legs anymore.

Most Unusual Motorcade

  • Posted on December 10, 2008 at 9:56 pm

Yesterday I was driving Stella to school and I was stopped by a motorcade. It’s not such a rare occurrence when you live in D.C., although I don’t see them as often in my nouveau ghetto Virginia suburb as when I lived in Bethesda or D.C.

But this was no ordinary motorcade.

We sat at a stoplight, and two cops on motorcycles blocked traffic on Arlington Blvd. in both directions. As we waited, more cops on motorcycles drove by, trailing the last of the cars turning onto the main road. Traffic was at a complete standstill.

A closeknit cluster of police motorcycles and cars crested the hill–here they come, I thought! Who could it be? A diplomat? Brangelina? Rhett Miller? Or–gulp–the president, on his way to…hmm…McDonalds? (I live in a McDonalds neighborhood, not a Starbucks neighborhood.)

As the car passed us by, I saw Santa Claus himself, flanked by two reindeer, waving from the back of the gray sedan. He turned onto the main road and was gone in a flash. It was the most exciting thing that has happened to me all week.

What I would like to know is–where was Santa going at 7:30 in the morning in Falls Church, Virginia, and why did he need a police escort?