The holiday season as a father is nothing like it was as a child. Granted, my childhood is hardly the standard that anything should be compared to, but it's the only childhood I have, so it continues to serve as my standard for comparison. Putting it mildly, the bar for my standard is quite low. Imagination, fantasy, and the belief that anything was possible meant that one was gullible, and thus inferior. It's no wonder I stopped believing in Santa Claus by the time I was seven, and the idea of an Elf on the Shelf seemed so absurd it wasn't worth discussing.
Thankfully, my children are growing up in a household with a mother determined to make childhood as magical as possible. More importantly, my wife makes a concerted effort with holidays. Halloween decorations are mandatory during that first weekend in October. They remain in place until November 1st when "Halloween Season" officially comes to a close and my wife dutifully replaces them with Thanksgiving decorations. Christmas decorations go up the day after Thanksgiving and remain in place until New Year's Day. As a result, there is never a doubt about which holiday season we are in.
We also encourage our children's creativity, and are delighted when their imagination challenges our ideas on what is real and what is possible. Our children write Santa Letters and mail them to the North Pole — and Santa (aka their mother) writes back! We ride The Polar Express. We ride The Santa Train. We even have an Elf on the Shelf who visits us annually, but only because my children asked Santa for one in their Santa Letters.
On Christmas Eve, when my son was six and my daughter was eight, we were trying to usher them to bed so we could make the necessary preparations for the following morning. My son, however, could not go to bed until getting in a final word with Buddy (our Elf on the Shelf) before he flew away with Santa during the night:
Thankfully, my children are growing up in a household with a mother determined to make childhood as magical as possible. More importantly, my wife makes a concerted effort with holidays. Halloween decorations are mandatory during that first weekend in October. They remain in place until November 1st when "Halloween Season" officially comes to a close and my wife dutifully replaces them with Thanksgiving decorations. Christmas decorations go up the day after Thanksgiving and remain in place until New Year's Day. As a result, there is never a doubt about which holiday season we are in.
We also encourage our children's creativity, and are delighted when their imagination challenges our ideas on what is real and what is possible. Our children write Santa Letters and mail them to the North Pole — and Santa (aka their mother) writes back! We ride The Polar Express. We ride The Santa Train. We even have an Elf on the Shelf who visits us annually, but only because my children asked Santa for one in their Santa Letters.
On Christmas Eve, when my son was six and my daughter was eight, we were trying to usher them to bed so we could make the necessary preparations for the following morning. My son, however, could not go to bed until getting in a final word with Buddy (our Elf on the Shelf) before he flew away with Santa during the night:
"Okay, Buddy! Don't forget to tell Santa to bring me a big BB-8, okay?!" He said with gusto, immediately following by, "but a BIG BB-8!"
Apparently, he had been filled with anxiety because he forgot to list said item on his Santa Letter that he had mailed out weeks previously. Lucky for us, "Santa" had purchased that very item several months prior when finances weren't so thin.
Christmas morning brought on delightful elation when Santa brought each of our children an item they had specifically requested of Buddy, but none more so than the big BB-8 for our six year old son. The delight they experienced is something they continue to generously share with us, infusing us, if only for those moments, with the joy of childhood.
Christmas morning brought on delightful elation when Santa brought each of our children an item they had specifically requested of Buddy, but none more so than the big BB-8 for our six year old son. The delight they experienced is something they continue to generously share with us, infusing us, if only for those moments, with the joy of childhood.
