God bless family traditions.

They're the reason I was able to completely avoid the issue of the truth--or untruth--about Santa with Beth this year. You see, we always, since before I can even remember, have celebrated Christmas Eve with all the extended family at my grandparents' house. But it's always an evening celebration, not a daytime thing. We didn't get to Grandma's house until a little after 7 p.m., and by the time all the family members were there, everyone had a chance to grab a plate (or two or three) of food, and we started opening presents, it was probably 8 p.m. Presents, playing, laughing, hugs and kisses, changing into jammies for the car ride home, and finally the drive from Grandma's back to our house...and it was 10 p.m. before we pulled into our driveway.

My sleepy girls nestled right into their beds and completely forgot to leave a plate of cookies out for Santa. And I did not remind them.



In the morning, Beth asked if Santa had eaten his cookies, and I fake-regretfully told her that no one had remembered to leave them out. We went on to have a fabulous Christmas morning, and that was the last anyone said about Santa or his cookies.

Next year, I imagine, I'll have to do something about it for real. Either let her do the experiment and face possible disappointment on Christmas morning, with the knowledge that it will likely be tempered by the stockings and array of colorful gifts (which we have never pretended are from the big guy in red anyway). Or, warn her in advance about the outcome of her experiment--and perhaps I'll even manage to pull it off in a fun, wise, and gentle way, like the mom in this blog did.

Thanks, all, for the responses to my Santa post and for all your heartfelt advice...which I gleefully avoided actually using.