I'm very fortunate to work with people who love kids. My office is in the Family Resource Center, full of books and toys and games to give kids something fun to do. My coworkers all came out to see them, exclaim about my hair...
(Oh. Did I mention I did something with my hair on Saturday?No?
Sorry. I did.
I'm donating that ponytail to Locks of Love. If you get the urge to chop more than 10 inches off your hair, I highly recommend donating it to this organization. They make wigs for children suffering hair loss from cancer treatments.)
I take no responsibility for the girl's Easter hat Big Boy is wearing.
...and ask the kids about Christmas. They talked to the kids while I grabbed what I needed in the office.
My boss asked Big Boy if he was excited about Santa bringing gifts for Christmas.
He replied, "Santa is just a story."
She was horrified, and protested, "No ___! Santa is real! He brings gifts on Christmas Eve! If you really believe, he is real." Then she hurried back to tell me in secret that I needed to do some major damage control because someone had already ruined Christmas for my only-four-years-old son.
"Who would tell him something like that?" she cried.
"I did."
"Why?" She just couldn't believe that we could have Christmas without Santa.
Tonight at dinner, Big Boy said, "Mom, your work girl said that Santa is real." He said it again at bedtime. We explained that it's a fun story just like the cat in the hat, Dora the Explorer, and the Higglytown Heroes, but the real celebration is that God became man and was born a baby.
Big Boy protested. "But Mom, your work girl said that Santa is real."
"Who are you going to believe? Your parents, or someone from work?" I asked, a bit offended.
"Someone from work."
I guess I asked for it.
