I know Santa was here
My son and I have been snacking on the gingerbread house he brought home from school.
He legitimately thinks Santa Claus has been eating most of it and additionally is trying to hide how much he himself has been eating.
“Santa eats some of the house and then puts things in our stockings.”
It is a straightforward relationship.
We have broken tradition a little bit by gradually filling the stockings and torturing Yuri by telling him he can’t peak at what Santa brought.
Self-control is difficult with presents and sweets.
Continue reading Santa Ate My Gingerbread House
There is a gilded statue of Joan of Arc that my son sees everyday from his school bus.
She crowns a roundabout astride a horse and was given to Portland to honor our soldiers of the Great War.
He asks, and I tell him the truth.
She was a religious fanatic who was burned alive.
He wants to know more, and I struggle with how to expand. We haven’t had the religion conversation yet. I decide it can wait until he learns there isn’t an actual Santa Claus that comes down the chimney, an Easter Bunny that hides plastic eggs, or a tooth fairy that buys his teeth while he sleeps. So I distract with another topic.
Continue reading Son Of Truth, Father Of Lies