Petra and I had a come to Jesus moment about Father Christmas while we were flying home on Monday. She told me that she’d figured it out, that Father Christmas couldn’t be real because magic isn’t real, and that I had my suspicious “I don’t want to talk about it,” face on when she mentioned it, so she knew she was right. She wanted me to tell her the truth. I said, “Are you sure you want me to tell you?” She said, “Yes. Then I’ll have the story and I’ll have the truth.” So I told her she was right.
She’s happy with the result because she has the best of both worlds now. She can still enjoy the Christmas story which is fun and exciting for her. And she has the proud knowledge that she worked out for herself what the truth of the matter is.
She’s a smart smart girl. And a very astute and observant one. I might have to wear a bag over my face so she can’t read all my expressions!
It’s fascinating to see her developing. To my partial maternal eye, she possesses an impressively incisive and creative intellect and an admirably strong sense of self. I look forward to seeing what she gets up to as she grows.