I once heard a mother tell a child "Sorry, we can't go to the park today because it is closed." Caskey and I vowed then to always tell the children the truth about everything. Which is why when I was pregnant with Alexander we had to buy the baby book and explain the baby-tunnel. We have continued to tell the children the truth over the years, even when it wasn't nice and it might have been a little hurtful. We softened the blow as much as possible, but we taught our children to be honest above all other things.
But last night I outright lied to my son, Connor. He asked, "Is Santa real?" All I wanted to do was turn back the clock and perserve his innocence. Six-years-old is far too young to stop believing in the magic. Rather than actually lying to him I skirted around the truth. "Do you think mommy has enough money to buy you all that stuff?" His reply, "No, but I think grandma and other grown-ups sneak in at night and put the presents under the tree." *sigh* This guy is too smart for his own good. But I stuck to the party-line; Grandma and Mommy and Daddy can't afford all those gifts, so it must be Santa. I just want him to stay little a tiny-bit longer.