Santa came to Mimi’s house on his fire truck this weekend. I try not to, and feel silly for doing so, but I cry every time he comes. The emotion of witnessing the pure joy that Max and Ben express just before you can see the truck but can already hear the sirens and music is unbearable. It doesn’t happen very often. In fact, Ben has nightmares at night of me yelling at him. I know he does because he’s repeating things I’ve said in his sleep. It’s a different kind of unbearable. It’s heartbreaking and makes me truly question my ability to be a good parent.
But on Saturday, after a rough morning and threats of going home before Santa even arrived, I got to experience what it feels like to be a kid at Christmas. That magic that everyone talks about isn’t always just a cliché.