Henry no longer believes in Santa. The past few weeks, he's brought it up several times, questioning the logistics of such a far-fetched story. I didn't want his doubts to creep into the girls' imaginations, so I sent Mitch to have the talk with Henry last night. Mitch is way better at stuff like that, because I'm all, "boohooI'mlosingmybabygoodbyechildhoodblahblahblah". They were in Henry's room for quite some time talking about the "magic of Santa" vs. the reality, and keeping the magic alive for the girls. After it was over, Henry came and snuggled under my arm with a grin on his face.
"I feel so much better, now," he said. "I didn't like the idea of Santa spying on me all the time".
Grrrrrrrrreat.
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