The weekend of Mayas first comunion.
A conversation with Anya in the car.
"Daddy, does Santa Claus realy exist?"
I was OK to play the Santa game
for as long as they wanted to.
But she did ask directly.
She gets the lower lip quivering
crinkles up her little brow
"But I want Santa to be Real!"
"We don't get to choose what's real, honey.
Would you rather Daddy had lied to you?"
"I would rather Santa was real,"
she replied, thoughtful
and a little pouty.
I told her that if she wants to believe
in Santa and think that Daddy is just
a confused, silly grownup, she can.
That's part of the magic of being a kid
The next day, less than 24 hours later
we're in church. During one of the "stand up"
parts of the Catholic ritual that is First Comunion,
I'm holding Anya in my arms, so she can see.
"Daddy, does God realy exist?"
"Let's just enjoy the service, honey."
Her eyes got huge and accusatory.
"I did not say that.
Let's just wait, and talk about this later,"
She totally forgot about it after the service.
Anya, at age 5 years and 2 months,
makes the leap from Santa to God.
Most grownups seem to have trouble with this.