Santa mind games

When did you stop believing? I can’t remember my moment. But I’ll never forget the day my sister learned the truth. She was 12. I told her. My parents made me do it. She was going to high school and they were worried she’d be an object of mirth. She was really, really annoyed. Almost as annoyed as when I told her about the birds and the bees. (The things I did for pocket money… ) “I don’t want to know!” she kept insisting. I’m trying to decide if Sprog 1 still believes. She doesn’t want to visit him this year and she’s always loved her Santa visits. I’ll never forget visiting Santa in New York. He was THE best Santa ever. The beard was real, he said he remembered Sprog 1 from last year and he had all the time in the world for her. Her eyes lit up like stars and she flung herself into his arms. Last week, she told me that decorating the tree and “spending time with family” were her favourite things about Christmas. She’s 8. What 8-year-old thinks “spending time with family” is better than telling Santa what you want for Christmas and getting it? Sprog 2 definitely thought it was weird. “What about the presents???? The presents are my favourite bit!” she insisted. Sprog 1 shook her head solemnly. Then she threw me by saying, “Santa doesn’t wrap the presents, does he? Imagine if he had to wrap all those presents!” I agreed it would be very time-consuming and environmentally unfriendly. A few minutes later, Sprog 1 started reminiscing about the “dummy fairy” leaving her a Polly Pocket present when her dummy disappeared. Sprog 2 was derisive: “There’s no such thing as the dummy fairy!” Well, I said, I don’t know who left the Polly Pocket stuff then, because Daddy would never approve of that sort of plastic rubbish. Now I’m thinking, was it all a test? Is Sprog 1 trying to catch me out? Can an 8-year-old with an addiction to black and werewolf Barbies really believe in the dummy fairy? Is she starting to question, to wonder what to believe? I hope she has one more Christmas as a believer. Kids grow up way too early these days. But then, a 60-year-old friend tells me her Santa illusions were shattered when she was five. Her little sister became so hysterically petrified by the thought of a large man in a red suit sneaking around the house (even the suggestion he’d just leave the presents on the front doorstep didn’t calm her) that her parents had to break the news to the whole family that he wasn’t real. Bummer. But life has a way of evening the score – the little sister now has kids of her own – now aged 31 and 34 – who still expect a Santa stocking on Christmas morning.

DIET TRANSGRESSIONS: Yum cha (I’m an addict, add Diet Coke and I’m in heaven). Plus the better part of a bottle of champagne at Carols. Hangover is surprisingly muted considering.  

TONIGHT’S DINNER: Ye olde faithful lamb rack with mint sauce.