Despite my unwillingness to brave lengthy lines for the quads to see Santa, we’ve managed annual visits. It helps that he makes an appearance at our local mothers of multiples Christmas party, which is where we’ve had our rendezvous the past two years. This year, Sydney and Mason were willing to sit on Santa’s lap, but neither would chat. I had to sit beside Santa for Harper and Rylin to approach him, and thankfully they obliged me for a picture.
At the ripe old age of three, Rylin is becoming a rather precocious sceptic. When Bop, our Elf on the Shelf, appeared she informed everyone he was “Just a decoration.” Sigh. I haven’t gone out of my way to conjure up fantasies for her, but I’m not letting the magic slip away either. I’ve been successful at turning all questions back on her, and in recent days she’s been weaving all sorts of magical stories about Santa and his North Pole cottage. Yesterday I had to bite my lip when Rylin proclaimed that because Bop was facing away from her, he couldn’t see if she was naughty. Today she was worried about the unseasonal warm weather we are having in Texas because, “Santa won’t come unless there’s snow, Mama.” Despite my explanation that Santa lives where it snows and travels anywhere, poor girl is still worried he won’t come to Texas.
Those who don’t believe in magic will never find it.
Dearest Rylin, I hope you’ll always find a touch of magic in your days. I promise, it makes life a bit sweeter.