The Magic of Christmas

When my son was 7 years old, he began to question whether some of the stories that we had been telling him about certain holidays were accurate.  In the spring, he started peppering me with questions about the Easter Bunny.  He looked at me with incredulous eyes and asked me whether I expected him to believe that a giant rabbit came skipping down the street with a gigantic basket full of candy.  His incessant questioning didn't stop until he searched the entire house and was able to unravel the Easter Bunny mystery.  The Tooth Fairy was dethroned shortly thereafter.  But it took several months before he finally realized that Santa Clause was probably a charade as well.

When he finally started to doubt the existence of Santa Clause, he came to me, crying, and told me that he had figured out that Santa Clause wasn't real.  I didn't confirm or deny anything.  I held him in my arms and told him:  "Sometimes it's fun to go along with something, even if you think it isn't real."  He took a few minutes to ponder this statement.  And then he smiled.  He looked at me and said:  "In that case, Santa should bring me an electric guitar."