Sometimes we have to lie for Santa

This was the first year my son was really interested in Christmas. He is, after all, only two and a half. His first Christmas, he was four months old. He slept through it in his swing. Last year, at a year and a half, he sorta got it, but really just liked scrunching up the used wrapping paper. This year, he understood that a magical fat man named Santa Claus was going to slide down our chimney and bring presents. (And candy. He was quite persistent that Santa would bring candy, too.)
Of course, Christmas morning, my son didn't remember it was Christmas morning.
"Do you know what time it is?" I asked after he'd gotten up and had spent cuddle time (read: more time for mommy to sleep) in our bed.
"Cereal!" he screamed.
"Ah, no. What's today?" I asked him, again.
"Cereal. Mommy? Can I have the ones with marshmallows?"
Once we got past the fact that Dec. 25 is about more than Lucky Charms, we went to the fireplace to open our stockings - which is when I got myself in a bit of a Christmas pickle.
My husband and I had decided that because the economy is so fragile, we wouldn't give each other presents this year so that we could save money. But I couldn't resist and so I bought him a few things for his stocking. (I think stockings are separate from Christmas presents, so technically I didn't break the rules. And we all know that Santa only stuffs children's stockings so adults have to take care of themselves.)
I bought Daddy some chocolate covered almonds, orange-chocolate balls and some red licorice. It probably cost $6, but I did break the rules. Maybe. I'm still not convinced.
As my son tore open his stockings and looked at all the candy - Christmas M&Ms, NERDS, and chocolate covered raisins, he noticed in a very Sesame Street moment that one of the stockings was not like the others.
"Mommy? Where's your stocking?"
Mine was on the fireplace with my son's, his stepbrother and sister's and my husband's - all of them full of trinkets, candy and little gifts.
I told my son I had already opened my stocking.
He looked at me, his face all scrunched up trying to understand the situation.
"No it's empty, mommy!"
It was empty. It's true, I had broken the rules and put stuff in my husband's stocking even though we said no gifts, but still – no one had bought me even a $1.19 chocolate bar for my stocking.
Later that night, I told my mom about how my son had noticed my stocking was empty (yes, because, once again, I had chosen to break the rules.)
"Sarah," my mother said.
"Every year, I bought something for my own stocking. It's something mothers do."
Well, let me just say this: Next year Sarah's stocking is going to have some pretty good stuff in it then!





And here is the rest of it.