He's up there right now. In the gentle darkness, snuggled up on the comfy covers, telling him the truth. The truth about the big man in red.
Josh had asked this morning on the way to the bus stop if Santa was real. With a little still-want-her-to-believe-sister in the car, his dad effectively dodged the question.
We had a feeling this was going to be the year. The year when one of childhood's innocent fibs would slowly be brought into the light of truth.
So we talked about how he would tell him tonight. How we would try to protect the secret for his younger siblings, too. How it is based on the powerful truth that there are some things we believe in, but just can't see.
I wonder if it will make him feel older, like now he knows something and can share in "what the big people know." It's like...sitting at the with the adults after years at the kids' table. I look forward to his knowing looks when the mention of Santa comes up in conversation. His raised eyebrows that match his older-than-he-really-is soul.
By now, the deed is done. I can hear his dad coming down the stairs.
My boy is growing up. This is one of those moments when I'm doing a cheer and a sigh at the same time.