Whenever my kids have asked, I've always told them immediately that Santa wasn't real. But the rest of the time I've talked like he was. I've also been known to say that Santa stops coming when you no longer believe. This parental experiment has had interesting results; my boys know darn-good-and-well that Santa isn't real, but will fight to the death to insist that he is.
Friday, November 14, 2014
The other night we heard a loud clunk noise from somewhere in our apartment. I wasn't worried because recent construction was making everything shifty. I was about to double check when Adam puts his arm out over me to keep me from getting up. I laughed and got up anyway.
But I did tell my husband how sweet it was that he was being all brave and trying to protect me. His answer: "Well, what's the point of having a six foot four inch, hundred pound brute around?"
Monday, November 3, 2014
I called Z a "total nut-case." A few minutes later he accused me of calling him a peanut-shell. I corrected him, and then he just sat there, staring at me with a grin on his face, until I finally got it.