My husband and I were downstairs, wrapping Santa's gifts for the kids when disaster struck in the form of a four-year-old at the bottom of the stairs. She'd been asleep when we started. Not so much when we had presents strewn all over the downstairs living room. I took her back to bed, where she denied seeing anything. Ya right. I've read enough mystery novels to know what a warm spot at the bottom of the stairs means.
She saw everything. No way we could make those gifts "from us." No way I could possibly return everything and start from scratch today. Once we knew she was back asleep, we holed up in the kitchen to brainstorm The Big Lie.
What could we tell her? We didn't even know how much she saw. Jim had his idea of what to say, I had mine. She found him first this morning and asked about what we were doing. Jim told her she must have dreamed the whole thing. Predictably, our almost-five-year-old was a bit too smart for that. Then she came to me and asked why daddy pretended she was dreaming. I told her that Santa had needed our help wrapping a few things and of course we said yes. But that Santa didn't want her to know, so that's why daddy said what he did. So basically, I lied about Jim's lie to cover up for the fact that there really is no Santa.
Is my nose growing yet?
But I'm a bit relieved because I think she bought it. She now claims she saw Santa downstairs too (another lie for those who are keeping track). In fact, she'd rather we not mention to Santa that she knows he was here early. So I suppose it all worked out. We'll see come Christmas morning...