The Nightmare Before Christmas Christmas

This year my son is twelve.  Twelve!  I can't get over it.  We are past believing in Santa Claus, leaving cookies out on a plate, leaving our "Magic Santa Key" under the doormat (we don't have a fireplace, so Santa has to get in somehow!).

I've known for several years that this time was quickly approaching.  Thankfully for me, my child was slower to let go of the Magic of Christmas than many of his peers.  I attribute this partly to the fact that he is an only child and partly to his older friends who were kind enough not to tease him or blow the fantasy, but play along with us.  When he came home from Kindergarten and announced that some children were saying that Santa Clause wasn't real, I quickly told him that they must be bad, and Santa doesn't bring them gifts!  I immediately regretted throwing those kids under the bus (I was imagining how my son looked at those children in school the next day, and what bad things he thought they must have done for Santa to skip their houses on Christmas Eve).  But, he easily accepted my explanation and my "white lie" managed to get us through several more years of Santa Claus presents under the tree and half-eaten cookies in the kitchen.  My son also has a very active imagination and just Loves fantasy and myth and magic.  I think he actually knew that Santa wasn't real long before he admitted it to me, because he wanted to keep up the fantasy (maybe even more for Mom and Dad than for himself).


Of course, he did finally let go of Santa a couple of Christmases ago and I, in true Sassy Scrapbook Gal fashion, have been in denial. He is my one and only, and once the magic is gone, there are no others behind him, still believing, still needing Mommy to create those special moments. But because this is a year of change for me and acceptance and being present, I decided to not only accept that my son is no longer a little boy, but to embrace it, to evolve with him, and to thoroughly enjoy the incredible person he is becoming, instead of mourning the child he is leaving behind.

So, what does this have to do with "The Nightmare Before Christmas", you ask?  Well, the method to this madness of acceptance and evolving started with Tim Burton's "The Nightmare Before Christmas," because this movie, while animated, is still "cool" enough for my son.  So, this year, instead of pajamas with reindeer and sugar cookies in the shape of stars, it was Nightmare Before Christmas pjs and chocolate "Gingerdead Men."  We watched A Nightmare Before Christmas and played Nightmare Before Christmas Yahtzee.   At the end of the day, we baked goodies and played games and laughed and giggled and made fun of everything. My son may not be a little boy anymore, but he is sweet and precious and funny and smart and loving and everything I wished he would grow in to when he was a babe in my arms.  What I learned was that it is not the method of delivery, but the message that counts.  This year, the message that Christmas is about family and love and thankfulness was heard loud and clear, in our own evolving way.