Ah, to be a child at Christmas

As much as I love being a Mom at Christmas, there is that little part of me that still wishes I was a child for the month of December.

Writing a letter to Santa. The excitement and anticipation of sitting on Santa's lap. Baking holiday cookies with my Mom and sneaking a cookie from the tray. Opening the little doors on an advent calendar to see what the elves had left for me.

Hanging the stockings and trying so hard to fall asleep on Christmas Eve - but the excitement of Christmas morning would take over my body and keep me tossing and turning in my bed. Hearing "if you don't close your eyes and go to sleep Santa won't come" only made me want to stay awake and see him for myself.

The sheer joy on a child's face Christmas morning is something I wish I could bottle and save forever.

Sure, being a Mom I still get to participate in the excitement and anticipation - but it's not the same. Especially this year. Dylan is now 8 years old and I fear it will be his last year believing.
Will Christmas still be as much fun and allow me to relive my childhood next year if he knows my personal relationship with Santa?

Will he be mad at me for not being 100% truthful?

For now I will enjoy the magic and the time I have. Because I still believe. Do you?