my neighbor and friend across the street has been very ill over the last two weeks. i've had her daughter maria over most afternoons and evenings since she came home from the hospital. she is sweet and talkative and gets along really well with sunny.
but for a seven-year-old, she can sometimes be a little insensitive. when the topic turned to christmas, she eagerly told us what she wanted. "that's right," said sunny. "you're going to ask santa to bring it to you!"
"no, sunny," she said (mind you, we are all sitting around the dinner table). "santa's really my dad. there's no such thing as santa."
jon and i stared at her with our mouths open. we tried to jump on the end of her sentence as soon as we realized where she was going with it. "santa still comes to this house," i said repressively.
"oh," she said, looking at me, trying to figure it out. "OH. yeah. SANTA will bring it to me."
thank goodness, sunny gave no sign of hearing or understanding what maria had said. he just continued on with his monologue about what HE wanted for christmas.
i heaved a sigh of relief. to me, santa represents so much of the magic and wonder of childhood. and while some day sunny will figure out who REALLY fills the stockings, for now...
yes, sunny. there is a santa claus.
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