54. Who's The Real Santa?
Since each of their births, 1976 and 1979, my two sons have been a constant source of awe and amusement for me. Both began talking fairly early, nine and ten months respectively, probably because I engaged them in one-sided conversations with regularity. I didn’t believe in any “baby talk,” nor did I allow others to talk in nonsensical syllables to them. The madness to my method paid off with having small ones who could actually carry decent conversations with great articulation.
My fondness for words probably took me beyond normal limits as a new mother. I admit to any guilt for using my sons to provide the sort of entertainment that only parents can appreciate. I adored teaching them long words, many words for which they had absolutely no use… “encyclopedia, hippopotamus or hippopotami, aero-dynamic, metamorphosis,” etc. Just watching those little rose bud lips wrap themselves around new pronunciations tickled me pink. I wish I had recorded some of those amazing conversations.
A few of my favorite recollections of dialogues with my sons took place during this time of year… the Christmas season. Picture a family of four driving off to grandma’s house; the five-year-old sitting in a big boy car seat and the two-year-old sitting a little higher up in his baby car seat in the back of a sedan. The conversation had been ongoing about how things were different when their father was a small boy; for example, television only came in black and white way back then.
As we continued along, admiring the beautiful profusion of Christmas lights the two-year-old pipes up, “Did Christmas lights only came in black and white too Daddy?” It was a serious, logical question, somehow I was able to stifle my giggles. However, I totally lost it a few beats later, when Kurtis followed up with his next “logical” question. “Were dinosaurs still alive when you were little Daddy? Of course Kevin, the five-year-old, joined in with all our amusement, but was quick to chide his brother for asking such a silly question.
It was big brother again, who a few years later, being true to his nature, decided perhaps it was time to break the sad news about Santa Claus to his younger brother. This was during a shopping expedition when Kurtis observed that there were so many Santa Clauses here, there and everywhere. “Mommy, there are so many Santa Clauses, how do we know which one is the real one?” Kevin then motions that he wants to whisper into my ear, “Shall we tell him the real truth now?” First, I was shocked that an eight-year-old could sound so matter-of-fact about Santa Claus, then I quickly responded, “Let’s talk about this when we get home, okay.”
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