Cookies for Santa

A&P used to believe in Santa. At some point along the line, Peter figured us out. Despite my very best efforts to...

# Disguise my handwriting on tags
# Speak of Santa Claus in the third person- no matter what
# Place the Santa key on the door so Santa could get in without a chimney
# Control the Christmas Eve, profanity laced, toy-depackaging-putting-together-nightmare that is the Playmobil Airport

However, Andrew remained blissfully unaware. We thought surely the elf was out of the toy bag but realized the closer we got to Christmas last year- he had no clue. This was tough- do you out Santa yourself or let the jerks on the bus break his 5th grade, nearly eleven year old heart?

So, one day last year, a few weeks before Christmas we had THE TALK. Never in my wildest dreams did I think the harder conversation would be ratting out Saint Nick. But..

HE SOBBED
HE CRIED
HE MOANED

And, in the end broke my heart instead.

I felt lousy for a few days and so did he- he would spontaneously burst into tears and say "You LIED to me ALL these YEARS!"

A year post hence, we've recovered and Andrew joyfully helped me make the cookie dough for our baking frenzy. Peter was unwilling to get his hands dirty but participated in the gingerbread cut outs and the obligatory eating of all the broken cookies.

And, Santa will still come... but we're all in on the secret now and A&P can put their own toys together.